Lost Weekend

My Lost Weekend lasted 12 days. I ordered golden cake with double chocolate icing for dinner, five times. I devoured 13 velvet cupcakes with lemon vanilla topping. I made 16 Blondie brownies disappear, the last five, hard as rocks nearly cracked my teeth. I imagined each Blondie was a small hero sandwich on extra crusty sugary bread, adding a little Hellman's mayo for realism. To balance my meals, I noshed on an assortment of nuts in a party basket the size of a catcher's mitt and three jumbo bags of lime flavored tortilla chips, my favorite.
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My descent started January 10th at Lincoln's birthday celebration at my apartment. Unknown to me, three guests were cooks. Everyone generously baked sweets or raided bakeries. At the end of the night, the last detail left my house like that part in the circus when all the clowns keep coming out of the little, bitty car. Except this time in reverse. One of Lincoln's friends was driving home to Staten Island, and word flew round the room ~ "Ride." Seven or eight Staten Islanders jumped on the ride to avoid the multi-hour subway ferry trip. Two, forgot sweaters in their haste and no one took any food home.
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This left me with my own personal bake shop, and me, the shop's only customer. I waste nothing. Finding a free newspaper triggers a parade. I was obligated to eat it all. Adding to my plight, the Giants lost to the Eagles the next day. My depression led to three straight golden cake dinners, I thought I was being good by having water instead of milk with the cake, but the way I figure, my meal was in the 2000 to 2500 calorie range.
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Last night, I ate the last brownie, it took a while, my back teeth battled to bite through it. But it's done. In the last 12 days, I've eaten the equivalent of half a dozen Entenmann's Pineapple Crunch Cakes. My belly feels funny. I'm not going through withdrawal because I don't crave sweets, but when they're there...