My Reward?

Something hit me just now.  I know why I'm slightly mushier.  Texas.  I know, I know, I blame a lot on Texas but hear me out!  I hate it here.  Stay with me.  I hate it here but I can't leave.  This makes me very unhappy.  Wallowing unhappy.  But I know I have to stay, so... I reward myself for not killing anyone, with food.  Normally when I see a treat I think, "I could eat that", I then think, "you could but do you need to?", and keep on moving.  Now it goes something like this:

"Food , I could eat that."

"But do you need it?"

"DO YOU NEED TO STILL BE ALIVE?!"

"That's what I thought, now give me the darn food!!"

Then I eat it and no one dies.  Win win it would seem.  Until I try to put on my summer clothes.  Then I wallow and start all over.  It's a vicious cycle littered with candy wrappers and yummy baked goods.  It doesn't help that even though I know about it, I also know I still can't leave so...I think there might be whoppers in the cabinet.