In my defence...

I didn't consciously set out to snarf down seven Pirate cookies in the space of thirty-five minutes. I only meant to eat one or two, three at the most, with my morning tea. But because I was stressed to the hilt and freakishly busy, I mindlessly reached for the bag every time some arsehole infuriated me, and before I knew it, the row had vanished. (Sidebar - seven arseholes infuriated me in the space of thirty-five minutes! Isn't that the real problem here?)

In my shame and embarrassment I decided I couldn't let my coworkers know that I ate seven cookies at a sitting (although if the size of my can is any indication they might already have an inkling) so I quickly figured out a way to save face and I did it. I am not proud. And while my binge won't hurt anyone else, I can't help but visualize myself standing in front of a room full of fellow tubbies at some 12-step meeting saying "Hello, my name is Helen and I'm a binger" and the rest of them chiming in "Hi, Helen" as they surreptitiously lick their lips to remove any traces of the glazed doughnut and mochaccino they stuffed down on the way in.

Although I'm probably overreacting. We all stuff ourselves with shit that we shouldn't from time to time, don't we?