Meredith is Black

Oh dear, Meredith has resurfaced. She tends to make an appearance every time I am getting too arrogant. If I think or am under the crazy notion that I've got a handle on things, she makes her cameo. When I am under the impression that treatment is over, that I am going to be released from rehab, and that I have earned my chip, my vice is back. It is not unique to me. The ladies at work have deep thought provoking discussions about their dirty little secrets. You know, those small addictions they seem to hold on to for future reference. The lounge becomes a confessional, and everyone is revealing their quasi-iniquities. The obstacle, the impediment, the obstruction that they know they should rid themselves of, yet they hand themselves over without any resistance, they are entranced, enraptured, and giddy. It might be as innocent as chocolate or as dangerous as buying on credit, but when the siren calls, when the bell tolls, do we not all jump? Do we not respond enthusiastically, "now, now" to our temptation? The gals at work with much academic research and scientific testing chalk it up to low self-esteem caused by the fashion magazines and those skinny models. I will have to participate in further deliberation with my colleagues, but for right now Meredith is back.