But I don't do the diet thing anymore. I'm a big believer in feeding your body what it needs. Deny yourself something and you're going to end up shoving your face full of it.

I still, at hotel rooms, I do this one sort of not-so-cool thing: continually shoving my room service tray in front of someone else's door. Because I don't want the remnants. I don't want to be caught, like, being like the pig that I was at two in the morning.

Heartache often drives us to consume things we wouldn't otherwise, such as an entire pint of Caramel Pecan Perfection high-fat ice cream, covered in ganache, the crack cocaine of frozed dairy. Twelve hundred calories per pint, six hundred and eighty of which are fat calories, but is only dulls the pain for the moment, there's that carb fog while you're standing at the sink shoving it in your face, and then it's over and you feel...used. Like a cheap pickup the Dove people seduced and abandoned in your kitchen, leaving you with sticky hands and an empty cup and a still-broken heart, except now you're mad at Dove, too.

Usually my form of turning someone down was shoving a stake through his heart while smirking, Gotcha!

I think everything that happened in Idris-Valentine, Max, Hodge, even Sebastian-I kept shoving it all down, trying to forget, but it's catching up with me. I... I'll get help. I'll get better. I promise.

I still at hotel rooms I do this one sort of not-so-cool thing: continually shoving my room service tray in front of someone else's door. Because I don't want the remnants. I don't want to be caught like being like the pig that I was at two in the morning.

But I don't do the diet thing anymore. I'm a big believer in feeding your body what it needs. Deny yourself something and you're going to end up shoving your face full of it.