You’re making me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. My blood begins to boil. I can feel the Gama radiation coursing through my veins. The cause of the anger doesn’t matter…only the anger matters. My shirt feels tight and begins to tear. My skin turns green. My pants begin to tatter and somehow turn purple. I am large, I am enraged, I must SMASH. I fight to find my humanity. I fight to find Bruce Banner…I mean Mark Donahue. I fight the rage without my most effective weapon…..food. Last night I was angry. (It happens) It isn’t about the reason…it’s about the reaction, the coping mechanism. In days past the HULK would calm himself over a tasty treat or ten. The fat and sugar in my system would offset the gama radiation and I would find my inner Dr. Banner again. Last night I wanted to eat away my anger but I fought it and managed to stay on plan. I realized I need to find a new outlet again. I can no longer drown anger, stress, fear, sadness, or boredom in cheese. On WW journeys past, I turned to soccer as a stress outlet to prevent the inner beast from emerging. When the stress comes I need look to writing, painting (a new one for me) or playing a game to slow the heart rate. Channeling stress to new outlets, maybe Stan Lee can create a new comic for me… The WW… with the power to fit into his pants. Then again if anger makes me built like Lou Ferrigno in an instant somebody yell at me ASAP.
whatsdifferentthistime 