Venting on Vending Machines

This post is dedicated to Matthew Mittelberg for reminding my head that my stomach was fine.


Vending machines are the worst (<-- Hyperbole, obviously. Genocide, nuclear war, cancer and most forms of homework can easily be considered much more awful than vending machines).

They sit there, fat and happy, filled with all the good things you would rather have inside yourself. To cap it all off, their outers are made of glass, so you can see all those good things. You can gently touch the glass with the tip of your index finger and slowly exhale while your mouth hangs open awkwardly and mothers whisper to their children, "See, that's what happens when you don't eat your vegetables."

I haven't been eating my vegetables.

I threw portions to the wind this last week, stopped making near-midnight runs to VONS for fruits/veggies and even had a bowl of ice cream that I didn't weigh before eating. It was definitely more than one ounce. I will laugh if it was less than ...a lot of ounces.

If there is an explanation for why I have done so horribly on this particular diet in the last month, I don't  have one. Excuses, I have plenty -- no explanations. Maybe it's the negative reactions from people who know about the diet, maybe it's the irregularity of my schedule and finances, maybe it's because I have less self control when faced with homemade Italian chili than I thought I did.

Vending machines.

For those who live off of loose change and out of the back of a car, the convenience afforded by vending machines is vaguely attractive. They're everywhere. They don't close at 7 p.m.  They don't glare at you when you make your whole purchase in coins. They also don't sell vegetables.


So this week I'm at the National Institute for Homeschool Debate teaching values and cross examination theory. Food will be rare and in large portions when present. It will not be nutritious and it may take a lot more effort to track down my daily fruit servings.

They gave me a subway sandwich, but the atmosphere of these types of conferences naturally push me into starvation/survival mode. So even though I had just eaten a sandwich, the Skittles in the vending machine looked rather tempting.

I didn't even have to think up an excuse. The pattern of breaking the rules came so easily to me. I walked over to get some Skittles when my good ol' buddy called out. "Hey Mary, you don't need those. You just ate. You're fine."

Not judgily (new word!) and not jokingly. Serious, but not...serious. Like a friend would.


Maybe it's because I'm sick of giving up on myself, maybe it's because I didn't want to spend my last two dollars on candy, maybe because it was nice to have someone genuinely stick up for me and my crazy plan.

I just walked away.

Proverbs 18:24
"One who has unreliable friends soon comes to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother."