David Vades Joseph for BI
The sidewalk was empty, so no one could see me crying outside Levain Bakery's soaring glass doors. But there was nothing to shield me from the staff inside watching me, stunned, sobbing, giddy with excitement about what a drug had done to my brain.
I can't count how many times Levain's cookies sabotaged me — a day of disciplined dieting broken as I got sucked into those buttery black holes. Often I fought the temptation; sometimes I won, but too frequently I felt my body pulse in anticipation of the dopamine reward (mouth salivating, throat tensing) before caving to the cookies, resenting my choice, and feeling the familiar shame.