My heart is telling me to stop. My tummy is telling me I'm way past full. My brain is telling me to find something else to do, running through the lists upon lists I've made of what to do instead. Telling me to do something, anything - anything but what I'm doing now.

But it's too late. I can't stop it. The binge has begun and I know not when or where it will end. I do know it will end in shame and disgust. A sink full of dirty dishes. A garbage can full of empty wrappers and containers. My self-esteem shattered by the complete loss of self-control.

I do know when it began. It began the first time I thought I could add one more item to my preplanned meals. It was then I opened the door for the hideous monster. Then my loving husband coxed the disgusting creature in through the open door with cookies, a known weakness that I should have refused. Once through the door, the vulgar villain took full control. Chocolate covered raisins, popcorn, an ice cream cone and chocolate Lindor truffles made their way into my wide open mouth.

Stupidly, I still thought I could contain the beast. "I'll skip lunch" - "A light salad for dinner". Oh the ignorance! I was still oblivious to the fact the fiend had taken over.

Then I made lunch for the family. It was then I knew. It was then I started repeating the phrases so well rehearsed "Fight, Fight, Fight" -"mind over matter" - "victory is sweeter than defeat". It was too late....too late. Even though the panic had started to set in, I still slid the sandwich onto my plate. Pitifully, adding sliced veggies, as if that would help undo the damage inflected by the brute who had taken complete control over my willpower.

I had already lost the fight; and I knew it the minute the door first opened.