Why can't I be normal?

This question keeps me up at night. I have pondered over it for years now, and can come up with few answers that can explain my lack of normalcy. The only reasonable explanation is that something happens to me when I'm in any situation that has anything to do with food, and that causes me to behave in ways that psychologists wouldn't really classify as "normal". But I have no answer to the root cause of this issue. Is it a forgotten childhood trauma? A genetic disorder? A chemical imbalance? I have no answer and I don't think even doctors would. Why do I bring this up today, you ask? Well, here's what happened this morning:

I had met one half of a seemingly wonderful couple on my flight to Spain a couple of weekends ago, and made plans to meet the two of them for brunch this afternoon. I woke up early enough to procrastinate about going to the gym, and ended up having two cookies to get over the guilt of said procrastination. I even got ready on time and ensured that my handbag matched my dress and shoes. But as every woman knows, changing handbags is a tricky business. It's extremely difficult to remember to transfer your ipod, work ID, loose change, makeup, book, and various other items to the new handbag. Something always is forgotten in the old handbag, and your life ceases to hold any meaning until the missing item has been safely transferred over.

Well, such a "life ceasing to hold any meaning" event happened with me this afternoon. I was going to a vegetarian buffet place for brunch, so thoughts of muesli and pudding and lentils and curry had infiltrated my head to a point where I couldn't even think straight. Everywhere I looked around, I saw curry and rice. This is why when I swapped bags, I thought the newer bag felt lighter than the older one, but chalked that up to the weight of the bag itself, so as not to let anything get in the way of my curry cravings. Well, imagine my embarrassment when it came time to pay and I realized that I had forgotten my...wallet! Yes, the light weight of my new handbag was due a missing wallet that was comfortably resting in my old handbag.

To say that I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole would be an understatement. To say that I wanted to be on Lost and go back in time would be more accurate. I had to shamefully ask my wonderful brunchmates to bail me out. And you know me, when I eat, I EAT. And this was buffet, where you stuff your plate with whatever you want and then weigh it at the counter. I repeat, it was a BUFFET. So my plate was stuffed. And I had to ask someone who I knew for approximately 3.5 minutes to pay for it. All because food was on my mind all morning and I had lost the ability to use my brain for any seemingly normal activities. My mates were kind enough to bail me out, but then I saw dessert. And I longingly kept staring at it. They asked me if I was up for coffee and some dessert. Mindful of the fact that I was literally penniless, I started to refuse. But my insincerity must have shown on my face, because they insisted that I join them for coffee and dessert and paid for that too. Being the fat@ass that I am, I had both. This a new low, even for me. Something must be done. I cannot continue to be an idiot wrapped in a moron for the rest of my life. Dessert was fabulous though. As was the cappuccino. I need help. Help!