The Sweet Life

I love dessert (Click here to find out just how much I loved it when I was pregnant). Even now, I plan what I order in restaurants so I'll be sure to have enough room for some cake or pie. I've been known to drop hints prior to family gatherings just so my favorites sweets will be present. And an open box of Oreo Cookies in my house is an empty box of Oreo Cookies within 24 hours -- guaranteed. I am truly becoming my mother.

Case in point...when I was in high school my mother would buy us each a candy bar every Saturday when she did the grocery shopping. If she didn't knock hers out in the car, you could bet it would be gone by late afternoon without fail. I, on the other hand reveling in my own willpower, would opt to save mine. I'd place it in the cabinet and give myself something to look forward to in the week to come -- Wednesday was a great day for a chocolate pick me up.

It was a good plan, and worked fine for a while. But then a strange thing happened...my candy began disappearing from its hiding place! At first I didn't catch on. "You ate it and just forgot," I'd tell myself. After weeks of doubting my own sanity, I began to suspect someone else had a hand in the Great Candy Bar Caper and initially placed blame on my dad. At 6'4" and just shy of 300 pounds, he appeared to be a likely candy receptacle. But he adamantly denied it. And I had to admit it was darn near impossible for a man of his size to sneak anywhere. Plus, he would be much more likely to eat it right in front of me for spite. So I had to cast my net outward. Who did I know that fit the bill of both Master Thief and Candy Fiend? Of course! How could I have missed it for so long! My MOTHER!!!

At 5'5", this twitchy little woman barely tipped the scales over 120 -- despite the fact that she consumed roughly that same weight in sugar on a daily basis. It's an endless source of ire that in the great genetic crap shoot, I had the chance of being a tall, thin supermodel with lovely olive skin. Instead, I gain weight if I think about food too often, have the cholesterol level of an actual tub of lard, and without the right makeup, I virtually glow in the dark. All that AND the woman steals my chocolate??? I had been betrayed! Double-crossed!! Cheated!!! And I was bound to catch her in the act.

And so I laid my trap. I specifically requested a Hershey's Chocolate Bar with Almonds (her favorite) and waited until after Saturdays' lunch. "Gosh, I just couldn't eat another bite. I guess I'll just save my candy bar for later." I made a great show of placing it in its usual spot in the cupboard. "Maybe I'll go finish reading that book for English class then take a nap." With much yawning and stretching, I stomped loudly up the stairs.

The instant I reached my room, I tried to breathe shallowly -- all the better to hear the goings on down below. I heard dishes rattle in the sink, water running so they could soak until after dinner, then the tell-tale squeak (open) and thud (closed) of the cabinet door. That was rapidly followed by the slap/shush sound of my mom's house shoes as she scurried down the hall into her bedroom at the foot of the stairs. Then...nothing. Did I hear a wrapper crackle or was my brain overheating from listening so intently for so long? Barely breathing, I crept down the stairs keeping my feet close to the wall to avoid any creaks. Her door was ajar. I tiptoed close enough to see she was sitting on her bed, then BOOM I threw open the door.

"Ooh!" she mumble-screamed around a mouthful of chocolate. "You scared me!" She looked like a three year old caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms, "That's not my candy bar is it?" I asked sarcastically. She had the good grace to look sheepish for a moment, but it quickly gave way to a wicked grin. "Yes," she replied. "But I did it for your own good."

So attention world at large. Yes, I bought the last bottle of Hershey's Syrup on the shelf. I hoard every carton of Ben and Jerry's Vermonty Python flavor I can find. And I will not hesitate to take the last slice of Lemon Ice Box pie at the church social. But don't hate me because I'm a sugar glutton with no self-control. Think of it this way. If I didn't eat it, then you might have to. And wouldn't that just play havoc with your diet? Really, I'm only thinking of you. It's for your own good.