Comedy·PANDORA'S BOX

Stages of acceptance that yes, you are going to eat the entire pizza

“I’ll probably just make a salad!” you announce to your empty apartment even as you click “SUBMIT ORDER” for a party-size pizza on the Domino’s website.

"I'll probably just make a salad!" you announce to your empty apartment even as you click "SUBMIT ORDER" for a party-size pizza on the Domino's website.

"24 slices!" you exclaim. "I'll have two for dinner and then I'll take the rest for lunch for the next, I don't know, year, probably!"

Oh, you sweet adorable angel. You deeply misguided soul.

This is how it begins. And we all know how it ends.

You need to wake up, and you need to do it now. How do you do that? You work through the stages of acceptance of the fact that you, and you alone, are going to eat that entire pizza by yourself and there's simply nothing that can be done about this cold, hard truth.

STAGE 1: Rationalization

"It's fine because pizza has all the food groups!" you shout through your megaphone at your goldfish, Joe Pesci, moments after you've ordered. Technically yes, it does, but nobody needs to eat 24 portions of each food group in one sitting. Recognize this stage for what it is: a desperate attempt to blur your vision enough that the green font on the pizza box looks pretty much like kale. Wait: is it kale? It is!

STAGE 2: Denial

You've had two slices. You put the rest of the box in the fridge. You sit on your couch. All you can think about is the box in the fridge. Okay, just one more slice. You text a friend. Box in the fridge. You watch a movie. Box in the fridge. Okay, JUST these two more slices and that's IT. You take a bath. Box in the fridge. Box in the fridge. You're not done eating pizza. You're nowhere near done.

STAGE 3: Detachment

Now that's better! Here you are, happily watching The Pretty Good Wife with the box on your lap. No idea how many slices deep you are. Maybe 500? Maybe just 12. Hopefully just six? You have disconnected from all known reality. Life is just a gooey, happy, hazy dream.

STAGE 4: Rage

After gently placing the violently empty box in the recycling bin in the garage, you lie in bed, 97 months pregnant. Why. WHY???? Why did you place yourself in a situation where there was an entire pizza and no other human person in the vicinity??? You open the Dominos website on your laptop just so you can punch it.

STAGE 5: Acceptance

The morning has arrived to cleanse you anew. It's fine. All is in the past. You feel serene and thankful as you sit down to breakfast: a mug of water, a single almond, and a bowl of nice air.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sophie Kohn

Writer/Producer

Sophie Kohn is writer and producer with CBC Comedy, a stand-up comedian in Toronto, and a graduate of Second City's Conservatory program.