Confession

Confession: I am having a sweets thing. It is bad and getting worse. My husband keeps bringing home candy bars from the grocery and NOT EATING THEM. Does he hate me, is he trying to push me over the edge of diabetes, is he laughing secretly at my lack of self control. The candy bars sit in the fridge and every once in a while, I have been cutting off a bite. This seemed like not a big deal, but what is every once in while? Is that five times a day or five times a week? I don't actually want to know. BUT I did come to a screeching halt last week when, on the morning of my long run, I woke up and like it was nothing, I MELTED A REECE'S PEANUT BUTTER CUP ON TOP OF MY OATMEAL.

WHO DOES THAT? Is there a diagnosis for people WHO MELT CANDY BARS ON TOP OF THEIR OATMEAL? Am I ten years old? Am I Willy Wonka? Actually, I am probably worse. I am probably that terrible German Gustav child who fell in the river of chocolate right off the bat. Anyway, after getting rid of the last petit four tomorrow, I am stepping back to a once a week Yogurt World trip. I can do it. Good grief.