Boy, one reduced-fat Oreo sure would hit the spot after dinner. But one would lead to guilt, and then two ... next thing you know I'd be a smoker again. So, a shot of Ovaltine in the coffee has to suffice, just until I can thicken my skin to allow myself the occasional cookie now and then. Interestingly, I discovered that it's not caffeine that whacks me out, but the damn cookies: the sugar, the carbs. Bread does it to me too. I can't do the carbs. No joke. Been this way since before I had boobs. I saw the look in my littlest one--kid, that is. He spaces out on chocolate. The first time he had it he got drunk. His eyes were gone but his little mouth kept opening.

I'll be fine. Been here before. Pants still have slack (slacks?). My head bloated a little, but--

And my mom is a lady who has given me the shirt off her back ... but she knows I have this issue .... (She's never supported self-improvement because she's been unsuccessful at her own meager attempts, poor lady, God love her.) So why the five boxes of girl scout cookies "for the kids" RIGHT next to my computer? I mean, yeah my computer is on the kitchen table, but those thin mints almost tried to depress me into eating them by deleting my homework, I swear.

I bought my kids ONE box of cookies. Ah well.

This was nice--writing this. I'm over my craving. Perhaps I passed it on to you, reader.