I'm an addict. It's true.
What is my vice? Sugar.
What were you expecting drugs? alcohol? sex (haha, yeah right)? Well sorry to disappoint. I'm not nearly that exciting but my addiction is strong and real. For years I've been able to keep it at bay. A functioning addict so to speak. It's a family weakness, also known as, the family "sweet tooth". An addiction handed down from mother to daughter for generations.
It wasn't until Halloween that my latest sugar binge marathon began. I'm blaming Heather, my sister-in-law, for sending bags of the delicious mini candies Halloween is known for home with my husband. Like a dealer giving a junkie a free hit (I know I watch too much TV) I'm hooked again.
Ever since my last relapse - Easter 08 (it was bad, I gained 10lbs)- I've made a point to keep candies and chocolates out of the house. I have no control and I know it. I've thought about giving it away. Hell, throwing it away. Instead, I've filled a tin and hoarded the rest away for future fixes. It wont be pretty when my stash is gone. I'm visualizing Ewan McGreggors detox scene from Trainspotting. Weak, delusional, sick...oh, God!
Recently, I've been getting my fix by grazing through the day. My preference? Alternating between chocolate and sour candies. So far I've been able to keep this a secret from my son but it's getting harder. I know he can smell the sweet deliciousness on my breath as I shove a cherished morsel into my mouth while quickly stashing the wrapper and bouncing out of the kitchen.
Once he goes to bed I lose control. My mind is yelling STOP while my mouth and hand take over. Grab, unwrap, stuff, chew, swallow. Repeat. This goes on until I can manage to tear myself away, empty wrappers filling my hands. Gives me a rush. It's a sickness, I know. I'm weak and now, I'm salivating.