Eating Disorder

“Well, Mia, what do you have to say for yourself?”

She stared at me, not blinking, waiting for me to continue the inquisition. She knew exactly what she had done because this was not the first time she had gone on a binge that involved polishing off something she should not eat. Last week, it was a bag of chips, the flat pretzel chips I discovered at Sam’s Club and cannot find anywhere else. I love those chips, but Mia does too.
We share pretty much everything, but most especially chips, a rare treat that I seldom indulge.

Today, it was a full bag of my favorite Senseo® coffee pods, the subtly caramel French vanilla flavored coffee that I have come to crave. I bought the new bag yesterday on a shopping spree at Wal-Mart, where the Senseo® coffee is priced about $1.50 less than any other store that carries it. I buy 5 packages, totaling 90 cups of delicious, freshly-brewed coffee ready a mere minute after I decide I want a cup. Sure, it costs me a bit more to have the individual pods, about $3.50 a package, but I did the Starbuck’s math and convinced myself that I “save” more than enough from not buying Starbucks than I spend on Senseo®. It never enters the equation that I may stop at Starbucks once in a blue moon, but enjoy my daily several cups of coffee. It’s the principle, I assure myself.

Mia demolished an entire unopened bag of coffee pods! I was not happy, and she knew it, but Mia wasn’t talking. She has a way of just staring, not saying a word in her defense, all the while knowing that I’ll blink first and she can walk away unscathed. This time, however, I was committed to outlasting her as the escalating behavior is beginning to annoy me—a lot.

I bought some square canisters a month or so ago, when Mia began bingeing on anything she could get her teeth into. It didn’t matter if it was a taste she would enjoy or just a product she wanted to sample, Mia tucked into anything I left on the countertop or table. Because she can pop the lid on most storage containers, the new canisters have locking tops that don’t just fit into grooves, but include a tab that snaps down and locks the lids in place. So far, Mia hasn’t been able to breech the new layer of security for items that may tempt her into tasting them the minute I have my back turned, but I’m not quite as conscientious about what I remember to protect as I need to be to keep Mia in check.

Believe it or not, I never dreamed that I should secure coffee pods. But I thought the same thing a month ago, when I bought a fresh bag of prunes, one of my all-time weaknesses in the snack department. The physical response to Mia’s prune binge prompted the purchase of the lock-tight square canisters: it was not a pretty mess she made, either in emptying the bag of prunes or the natural physical reaction to their consumption.

“Mia, I am not going to put up with this behavior much longer. I am sick and tired of you bingeing on anything you consider fair game. The prunes, the chips, the Hershey’s kisses, the protein bars, and now the coffee pods. This has to stop, Mia. Do you hear me? This has to stop!”

She maintained her stony silence, her big brown eyes looking sorrowful, but not showing an iota of regret or remorse. She was not going to incriminate herself by admitting her guilt, nor was she going to try to talk her way out of what she knows she’s been doing. She was quite content to wait me out, sharing the couch with me, and offering a comforting pat on my arm.

After staring eyeball to eyeball for another couple of minutes without exchanging a word, I decided that it was a waste of time to make her understand that she's to leave my food alone: she has her own snacks. Besides, I'm working on another afghan and this silent stare-off was seriously cutting into my craft time. She wasn't going to budge, so I guess it was time for me to move on--again.

Mia must have agreed as she got up from the couch, stretched, and sauntered out her doggie door.