by Kim Rogers
Perched on a barstool at the Baker Street Pub, area dieter Katherine Fink took dainty sips from her third vodka-soda of the night. In an act of self control, Fink chose the bitter beverage over a high calorie beer or cocktail, as if she won’t be vag deep in a Taco Bell cheesy gordita crunch within the hour.
Fink fiddled with the lime wedge in her glass in a hapless attempt to squeeze more flavor into the sixty-four calorie drink. Still, she was proud of her resilience in the face of temptation, a feeling that would go away after shoveling the dense pocket of beef product and cheddar jack cheese into her gaping mouth.
“Liquid calories can really sneak up on you,” Fink explained, as if she wouldn’t have willingly chugged nacho cheese sauce straight from the nozzle a couple of drinks later.
Blind with confidence, Fink leaned over to a friend to note chewing ice from the bottom of her glass was more satisfying than any late-night snack less than an hour before witnesses saw her go ham on more than one Taco Bell five buck box.
Forty-five minutes before going balls-to-the-wall on twelve dollars’ worth of fried tortilla, the naive Fink noted: “It’s just nice to go out without ruining all my workout progress this week.”