Boundaries.

I consider myself fairly self-aware. With this self-awareness has come the realization that I am not much of one for boundaries. Turns out it appears as though I was born without a moral compass (potentially to the detriment of my entire relationship with my mother: if she even only knew) and without this fancy little thing my dear friend refers to as a "ticker". The ticker prevents you from talking about sex, shit and most basic bodily functions in front of people that probably don't need to hear it: co-workers, aunts/uncles, boyfriends, quite frankly random strangers. My ticker is GONE. You might see an ad for it on those flyers with the missing persons.

But I digress. So I have boundary issues, big deal. Some girls have Daddy issues. We all get over it somehow. However, a line was CROSSED yesterday, even for me and in an unexpected way.

After a relatively easy workout (read: hangover)I proceeded to invite my trainer to join us for lunch (wrong McCloud). Due to said hangover it wasn't much of a salad day. So instead, I naturally ordered the NACHOS, in front of my trainer! The guy who listens to my constantly bitch about my lovehandles, and my thighs, my stomach rolls and my back fat and anything else I can think of at the moment as I'm in weird positions in front of the mirror (yes, I wish it was for some other reason other than the workout).

And I don't really just mean eat, I mean gorge. I mean peel the melted cheese off the skillet, dip it in guacamole gorge. I even ended up with guacamole on my sleeve...and pants. In fact, apparently I looked so ravenous he even gave me his black beans (aw, is it love?!)

Alas we parted ways. If only my trigger wasn't missing along with my ticker maybe I'd feel better about myself today. Or seeing my trainer again, ever.