The Want Monster

A couple of nights ago, I developed a hankering for ice cream. I binged out on not one, not two, but three scoops of the calorie-and-fat laced treat. This morning, I still feel guilty about it.


Of course, I am the one who controls her own actions. It was ultimately my choice to have gorged out on something in such mountainous quantities. (When you are watching what you eat, three scoops of ice cream become a big deal.) Yet I am a human and I always like to shift the blame to something else. I place the culpability on the Want Monster.



The Want Monster is the primitive creature who lurks in the darkness inside my thoughts. In a normal state, he maintains a gentleness that is admirable. He is silent. He sleeps in peace. He does, however, have one prey: the word "no." Should this powerful two-letter word arise in the vague of my mind, the Want Monster opens his big blank eyes and commences his hunt.




He constantly trespasses the boundraries of judgment and reason. He quietly stalks and tries to supersede the notion of saying "no." Once he has targeted his victim, this beast begins his controlling game by repeating the same phrase:






I must mention that this predator, while being frighteningly persuasive, is rather stupid. He only lives to exist. He doesn't cultivate any true meaning to his mentality other than mere reaction. He appears when I refuse to buy a blouse that caught my eye. He despises the deprivation I give him when I decline a piece of chocolate. Nothing affects him quite like when I point-blank reject ice cream. When this happens, his instinct consumes his very being. Denial evokes. He stealthily begins to emerge from the void...



The need of "want" consumes him. He feeds off the pursuit of acquirement. He wants a scoop of ice cream.





His train of thought climaxes in a veritable explosion of desire.







Once I am bombarded by the Want Monster's commands, it becomes difficult for me not to give in, especially if the object he craves is ice cream. My hand moves toward the refrigerator. I appease him with a scoop.







But one scoop isn't enough. His greedy being has had the taste of Ice Cream Nirvana. He has an advantage because he knows that my poor choice has created a fissure in my normally strong will. He shouts "MORE, MORE, MOOOOOOOOOOOORE!!!"




I get a second scoop. I eat it.



"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"




The third scoop finally silences him.



I should also mention that the Want Monster has a negation aspect. For example, this morning, I made my cup of José (I drink Cuban coffee) and heated some milk. My taste buds later discovered that the milk was rancid. This disturbed him and caused his aversion to emerge.






I admit that the Want Monster can have some positive qualities, but next time, I just won't eat so much of my frozen treat. I know better than that.






Barb the French Bean