As we continue to enjoy the unghostwritten literary debut of one of America's most beloved television actresses, we learn a lot about pain and human nature and our heroine, Kate Keyes-Morgan. One of the things we learn is that her controlling husband has basically forced her to have an eating disorder. Fun times!
Honey roasted peanuts: sweet, salty and creamy all in one miraculous package. She found herself standing frozen, transfixed before the holy grail of caloric density. What harm could one or two peanuts do? In fact, she told herself, her metabolism was probably slowing down, starved as she was for fat and sugar calories. Two or three peanuts could be just what her body needed to kick it into calorie-burning overdrive. Feeling almost righteous, she reached for the jar and twisted off the lid, the pop and hiss of the vacuum seal releasing the familiar heavenly scent. She inhaled deeply and shook out three peanuts, closed the jar, and took her tiny bounty back to her spot on the couch in front of the television. She ate the nuts painstakingly slowly, enjoying each one as if it were the richest, most extraordinary peice of Godiva chocolate. See? she thought as she finished the last one. No harm done.
She was right, too. There had been no harm done by the first tiny handful of peanuts. But who had ever beena ble to stop at three honey roasted peanuts. Just three more can't hurt, she told herself as she made her way back to the pantry, repeating the ritual of opening the jar, carefully shaking out three peanuts, and padding back to the couch.
And so the evening went, nut by nut, until Kate was shocked to find herself shaking out a handful of salt, sugar, and peanut dust. Hyperventilating from shame and the fear of being discovered, Kate hid the empty jar in the bottom of the recycling bin and went upstairs to brush the incriminating scent off her teeth and hide her disloyal body under Hamilton's bazillion thread-count duvet.