SECRET EATING
 
I’m officially eating in secret.  It’s called ‘secret-eating’. [No it isn't.  What is that called when you wait until noone is around and then you eat something because you don't want anyone to see you eat it.  Not that your manners are poor or that partially chewed food slips out of your mouth but because of your shame over what you are eating or that you are yes, again, eating.]    
 
I waited until Precious was in the shower and even snuck in there to be sure she was ‘in’ before I poured my respectable sized (near serving sized) bowl of Cheerios with a prinkling of raw sugar and goat’s milk.  We’d knocked off almost a whole frozen self-rising-crust pizza just a couple of hours earlier.  For me this means consumption of a whole can of pineapple tidbits over the top of the pizza cuz how is any food supposed to go in da hole if it ain’t sweet?  And the salty-sweet combo is my fav.

After ‘secret eating’, one feels more shame and guilt.  One also feels a satisfied belly.