the mocha

I spent all morning getting ready and convincing myself that I could get a mocha before work. It would be ok. I could plan for the extra calories and work around it.

So I stopped at the coffeeshop. I was super tired when I ordered, and I didn't realize until she handed me my mocha that I'd forgotten to get it with skim milk and no whip.

I took it. I couldn't bring myself to complain. I mean, it was my fault. I took a sip as I drove and it slid down my throat like a spoonful of butter.

I tried to convince myself it was ok. People drink these all the time (and get fat). It's just one drink (full of fat). It's not that bad (500 fucking calories in one fucking drink? You're serious right now?).

I got to work, and I went straight to the bathroom. I stood at the sink for a while, debating. I'd just spent $4.35 on this damn thing. I should just drink it. I shouldn't waste that money. But really the only numbers I could think about were the calories, and those numbers made me feel sick, panicky. 500+ calories. In my hand.

I poured it down the drain. All of it.

It swirled in a steamy chocolate river in the sink. The whipped cream perched on top of the drain, mocking me. I turned the water on, hot, and watched it melt away.