My cookie walk of shame.

We’re all aware of the standard walk of shame: sheepishly entering daylight to find families out and about, trying to enjoy their wholesome Sunday brunch, while you stroll by in your heels and all black attire (possibly a sheer top, if you really went big), trying to act nonchalant and play the ‘oh, you know, this is my typical errands outfit…’ as you frantically type on your phone, avoiding eye contact at all costs, and then jump into a cab even though you live a few blocks away. It happens to the best of us. What doesn’t happen to the best of us, is what happened to me last night.

My first error was deciding to stop by Whole Foods for ‘just a few things’ to make my uber wholesome dinner of the evening—zucchini pasta with garlic and tomato, if you must know…it was a huge hit (meaning me, myself and I dug it)—when I was suffering from hunger pains. (Anyone who knows me knows that there’s a five minute window between when I get hungry and when I must eat, and anything that happens after those five minutes, quite frankly isn’t good). So I get to the market, convincing myself that if I don’t eat immediately I will surely faint (…highly unlikely), and decide: you know what, you deserve a cookie. Did I do anything to deserve that cookie? Mmm…nope. But like I said, this is what happens when I enter a food oasis armed with nothing but a fat girl appetite and a credit card.

So I grab not one, but two vegan chocolate chip cookies (along with several other unnecessary items that I managed to rationalize), and head to the checkout line. Naturally, the cookies were on the top—heaven forbid they CRUMBLE—and the cashier started to stuff them in my bag. You would think a child ran into the street the way I reacted, as I way-too-loudly demanded asked that she put the cookies on the top of the bag. Again, clearly watching out for the cookie like it was a real-life Gingerbread Man—definitely not because I wanted to munch it on my stroll home. Way too many dollars (and prospective calories) later, I’m out the door. And what do I do? I reach for the cookies—after all, I wouldn’t want to faint.

I start with a dainty piece…wouldn’t want to spoil my dinner…and next thing you know I’m less than a block away from the store, and half the cookie is gone (as are all the manners I like to think typically display in public). At this point I also notice that I have crumbs cascading down my blouse—oh baby oh baby—and that the nice gentleman across the street is staring at me (hey boy!). I offered up one of those half-assed, closed-mouth smiles—which never look as good as you think—put the cookie down, and pretended to be fully immersed in my tunes. He smiled, gave a little laugh, and I thought: my word, is he flirting with me? Spoiler alert: no.

I finish my trek home with a little pep in my step (happy Thursday to me), get home (yes, cookie #1 has now vanished) and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and what do I find? Oh…you know…just that there’s vegan chocolate smeared all over my top lip. HOT. Now fully ashamed, I wrap cookie #2 in a paper towel and go set it in my roommate’s room, and close her door (…we’ll just pretend it was a really thoughtful gift). And that, my friends, is a cookie walk of shame.

I can see my parents’ reactions now…they ask if I’m seeing anyone, I explain that I’m not, they ask why, and I drop this bomb of a story on them. They don’t say it, but we all know what they’re thinking: we taught you better. But the truth is, back in the day, they told me that it was ok to super size my McDonalds meals (not ok…)—I now realize why I had the nickname ‘T Bone’, why I was such a talented power forward (go Lakers), and why the term ‘big boned’ is a complete and utter lie. So, I may have endured a walk of shame, but hey, at least I’ve traded in my super sized fries for vegan treats (again, smeared all over my face). Can’t win em all.

*you can see the beast who stole my heart above