Just doing what I'm told

Was devouring an extremely light and flaky croissant--made even lighter and flakier after a few minutes in the oven--for lunch today when a buttery shard flew into my left eye. That's the second foreign object to enter my eye in a week, dammit! But this time, I guess because it was really nothing more than a flake of fat, it must have melted and the discomfort was almost instantly gone. And, in true Homer Simpson style, I did not let a thing like a greasy wounded eyeball deter me from polishing off the rest of my tuna, gouda, and tarragon croissant sandwich--gararar, mmmm, croissant sandwich...

Although I love croissants, it is highly unusual for me to go out and buy one. And eat one for lunch. It's too flimsy and insubstantial for me to consider it a real meal. But this morning, I saw a croissant very clearly in my mind, especially that tender white heart of the croissant, hidden moistly within its golden shell--with that image dangling before me, I hustled out to my local supermarket (because I am ever a slave to my stomach's desires), which puts out damn good bread for a supermarket, might I add.

And came home with my croissant and an an donut. Eh? What's an an donut? EH?? Croissant AND donut? Yes. And it was a big, puffed-up daddy of a donut too.

In answer to the first "Eh?", have you ever heard of An Pan Man? He's that jolly Japanese superhero with an An Pan for a head, which he often tears off his body to give to hungry children. What a nice guy. Well, An Pan is a simple round butter roll filled with dark red bean paste. So an an donut is a donut stuffed with red bean paste. Which can be good. But is not something that I usually go for.

What the heck is going on then? In answer to the second "EH??", it's thaaaat time of the month, ladies and gentlemen!

Some women cry a lot when they get PMS. Some get angry. Some women take an ax to the TV set--or the husband watching the TV set. I get even hungrier than I ordinarily am, and I tend to hunger for what some picky people might term "things that aren't good for you." Yeah, whatever.

I trust my body completely. If it says it needs both the croissant and the donut, I say okay.

The donut was wonderful. What is the source of that tantalizing aroma that only a donut possesses? Ya, I know, oil and dough thrown together. But puleez!--don't ruin the magic for me, alright? Anyhow, it was a pillowy globe of a donut that made that "cushhh" deflating sound when I bit into it--gararar, doooonut.

And the croissant--like a feather in my hand. How can something so insubstantial have any calories, I ask you? And as I savored my first bite, it occurred to me that eating this croissant was like eating warm buttery snowflakes that quickly melt on the tongue.

After my croissant lunch, I was slumped against the window feeling *really* happy. No desire to cry, get angry, or hurl axes at anything or anyone. Ahhh. Life is good. See? My body knows best.