The first step is admitting you have a problem. And I did…do. But I can handle it. It’s not like I have a full-blown addiction or anything. I’ve got this whole carbohydrate situation under control. I can stay completely away from them if I want to.
Except when my sister was here...I backslid and ate whole wheat bread on a sandwich at a picnic. But we were at the beach. And who doesn’t eat their sandwich on bread except those crazies that take everything to extremes? Now that’s a problem.
And grilled sourdough at a restaurant with my mussels because it was only sourdough and I didn’t really even enjoy it. It was a social thing. But it's okay because I can quit any time I want, right?
I even managed to make her lovely little family warm, fragrant, cinnamon raisin toast for breakfast before they headed to the airport Tuesday and I didn’t even nibble a crumb. See, I’ve got this. I can just walk away whenever I choose.
However, those under the age of three, come with these little hits. Dime bags in Ziplocs that their mothers squirrel away and deal out in doses as needed when out and about. Smaller cuts of a larger stash. “To go” snacks.
It seems there were some things that just wouldn’t fit into their luggage. So they decided to leave the remaining "to go" snacks on the counter and did I have anyone I could give them away to? Sure no problem. After all, I did have three hungry teenage neighbors eating their mother out of house and home. But...
I looked my sister right in the face and swore I would give them away. But like any true addict...I kept them!
The contraband sat on the kitchen counter taunting me, so I stuffed it in a bag and threw it in the cupboard. But that caused me to see the leftover cinnamon loaf, decide it was the lesser of two evils and somehow a slice wound up all toasted and buttered and in my mouth!
Wednesday, the mini Oreos started calling to me from the cupboard. "Laura...Laura...skip the chocolate and go for the golden because surely we'll be easier to quit." Then they came out of the cabinet. Then went back into the cabinet. Then out. Then in. Then out and into my mouth. A whole freaking fistful!
I stuffed the remainder of the open snack pack in the garbage and covered the cream-filled crack in coffee grounds.
Thursday the jonesin' got so severe, I started pacing in front of the pantry until finally I ripped the bag from the cupboard, shoved the bread in with it and ran the whole thing over as fast as I could, to hang on my neighbor's doorknob, waiting for her teenagers to come home, where it should have gone Tuesday morning!!!
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