Yesterday was Donut Day at The School. It was also the day when I woke up—both literally and figuratively—and realized that I want to be with The Wedding Date no matter what it takes but we’ll get to that later because in addition to being Donut Day, it was also The Day Before The Annual Spring Concert.
Despite the fact that we have three concerts a year every year, there’s always some sort of drama in the days leading up to the big show. This year my studio had been completely upended by a dozen construction workers who chose Monday—three days before the end of the school year, mind you—to install new windows. Nobody had bothered to tell me this would be happening so rather than putting all of my books and CDs into the cabinet when I locked up last week, I left them on the shelf like I always do.
As a result, they were coated in sawdust. And don’t even get me started on the gymnastics I had to complete in order to get to the kids’ mats from the studio down to the auditorium.
As I surveyed the damage, one of my co-workers alerted me to the fact that there were leftover Krispy Kremes just outside the office.
“I’m cut off,” she informed me, “I’ve already had three. But help yourself.”
Said co-worker has a bit of an addiction (by which I mean a major addiction; she has an app on her phone that tells her when her local Krispy Kreme has just set out a batch of fresh donuts). Not suffering from a Krispy Kreme addiction myself, I figured that one donut wouldn’t hurt.
Especially considering the fact that my studio was in a shambles and I still had approximately 87 million pages to laminate for the kids’ alphabet book.
So I helped myself to a donut.
But then I started thinking about The Wedding Date and even though I was feeling much better about things between us, I wasn’t sure that he was.
So I helped myself to another.
Then I checked my phone. I’d warned him via text that he might not care for yesterday’s blog post but as of 11am, I’d received no response.
Hello Donut Number Three.
My co-workers all think I’m anorexic because I don’t eat breakfast with the kids or lunch with kids or anything with the kids if I can help it (call me crazy but government subsidized grilled cheese isn’t exactly my idea of gourmet cuisine, especially seeing as preschoolers basically specialize in spreading germs). What they don’t realize is that the hours between 9am and noon are the only hours during which I don’t eat. And that’s only because I’m teaching. If I could sit around noshing on a bar of dark chocolate like I do the rest of the day, I totally would.
Needless to say, my fellow teachers were a bit surprised to see that I’d eaten three Krispy Kremes.
“You’re gonna pass me soon!” the real donut addict teased.
But I decided I would not.
I have self control.
Besides, there were bagels too.
“I’m only gonna have a few bites,” I announced helping myself to a blueberry swirl.
Then I slathered it with cream cheese.
A few bits turned into half. Then half turned into another donut. Before I knew it, I was up to FOUR.
By that time, I was almost done laminating the pages for the kids’ alphabet book but I still hadn’t heard a word from The Wedding Date. I checked my phone, then threw the remains of my bagel into the trash to keep myself from devouring the rest of it, then checked my phone again.
So I had another donut, bringing the grand total up to FIVE.
I did not have six. Six would have been gluttonous, besides there were only six leftovers to begin with. It would have been rude to eat the last one.
Several hours later when I’d stopped gorging myself on carbohydrates only because we’d moved down to the auditorium to start the rehearsal and there weren’t any donuts in the auditorium, I finally got a text. As it turns out, The Wedding Date had been tied up at work all day and hadn’t even read my blog.
“Christ!” I replied. “You could have texted me earlier! I’ve been sitting here all day thinking you’re mad at me and work has been horrible, horrible, HORRIBLE and I was so stressed about us that I’ve just eaten FIVE F*CKING DONUTS. Plus a half bagel.”
He was appropriately apologetic in his response but the damage was already done.
“I’ll be fine,” I replied, “just really fat.”