Guilty Spaghetti for One

25 Oct

There’s just something about spaghetti that does me in.

The pile of noodles curling around itself.

The sweet savory red sauce. Prego, of course. No crazy yucky mushrooms. No random debris floating around in it. Just plain traditional Prego in all its scrumptiousness.

Since I have issues with meat, this version is always sans the meatballs.

The parmesan cheese sprinkles on top melting into the piping hot noodles.

The yellow cheese melting into the parmesan.

A dash of cayenne pepper powder.

Garlic. Salt.

Accompanied by buttered bread.

I usually make too much, enough for two people. But I eat it all anyway. Even when I’m already stuffed. 

Uh-oh. I feel a slight gluttony misery coming on.

This pasta fest is often accompanied by a fizzy soda.

And though I feel a loss of self-control, as if I’ve driven off a road and into a bloated ditch, I keep driving.

I happen to know that food and drink should not be consumed together. Why? Because naturally liquids have to be dealt with (digested) first and then finally the load of food is digested so the longer the food sits in the stomach it can putrefy.  Not good. So as I scarf down the vittles I not only feel guilt for eating white pasta and buttered bread and high sodium sauce and soda, I know that my pants won’t fit correctly the next day, my acid reflux (LPR) will show out and I’ll feel all ugly and stretched and weak later.

Are you kidding me? I always have room for dessert. Always. Especially after I wait two hours.

My name is Right Brain Confessions and I’m addicted to my spaghetti.

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