Friday was like, National Donut Day or something. Very well played, especially since Tuesday was National Runner’s Day, and everyone (rightfully so) was getting off the couch and embracing the great feeling-of-personal-hotness-increaser. Friday rolls around, and every Krispy Kreme and Dunkin in America was offering a free donut with the purchase of a coffee. If I was home in Raleigh, I would’ve gone to that homemade donut place, Rise, and stuffed my face, but I can make do. I’m a versatile chick.
So anyhoo, I really tried to hold out all day. “Cheri, you don’t need the sugar. Your diet is awesome, no need to screw it up. You’ve already run a couple of miles today, why taint that with that donut.”
The urge for that donut won. So I put Krispy Kreme in my GPS, cause I’m still in Charlotte, and I don’t know where anything is anymore, I called to make sure they were still open, and the inner fatty in me forced me, forced me drive into a tropical storm to find this donut. I approached where I thought the shop was, and my GPS let me know I’d arrived. Buuut there was no Krispy anywhere to be found. I drove in a circle. I checked behind this sketchy motel. And finally, I asked some guy who was chilling in front of the movie theatre next door where the heck the Donut Shop was. ::Southern Accent:: “I don’t think it’s open yet! It was over there.” And then it hit me. The Donut Shop had been demolished. And my GPS had taken me to a now-non-existent shop.
I was about 25 minutes away from my parents’ home at this point. In a storm. So of course, I kind of remembered that there was a Dunkin close by. And I settled for one of those chocolatey ones with the sprinkles on top. As I swallowed it in 1.5 bites, chased by a swig of decaf, I sighed, “Yaiiis gurl!” Donut bettah werq!” It was that good.
So I ran a few extra miles over the weekend to make up for my naughty behavior. Hey, I’m a secret fatty. It’s a runner thing. Am I right?