I have a sweet tooth. Actually I have a whole set of sweet teeth.
I had just had a heavy lunch, topped off three large pieces of European chocolate. Armed with more than the recommended daily sugar intake, I was set for the second half of the workday. But that was until I stopped at Sheri’s desk. Sitting on the counter was a see-through, smell-through bag of Snickerdoodles. Mmmm–memories of baking with my dad wafted cinnamon aromas into my brain cells.
“You must have some,” urged my evil dessert twin who lives between the folds of my middle-aged belly.
“Maybe just one,” I responded. It was going to be a memorable moment—just me and my Snickerdoodle. I resolved to eat it slowly, relishing each little bite. Instead, like a dog head to head with a pound of meat, I snarled and stuffed the cookie into my drooling mouth. It was quite an indecent spectacle—right there in the office hallway! I didn’t stop to appreciate the snickerdoodly lightness or enjoy the cinnamony sugar granules. It was just a greedy, self-serving, three-step process: gnaw, drool, and swallow. I didn’t even chew that worthy Snickerdoodle.
And before it could get down my throat—I wanted more. I turned around and went back. Complimenting Sheri on her baking skills, I apologetically said, “I have to have another.” She graciously encouraged me to take a handful.
“I’m going to enjoy these,” I said to myself, truly believing that I had total self-control. But just as the cookie got closer to my mouth, it was another gnaw, drool and swallow.
Five minutes and several cookies later I felt the thick, sweet, nasty aftertaste of Snickerdoodles. Funny, how I had forgotten that nasty aftertaste. Somehow I remembered only the initial joy of biting into one.
Life has many Snickerdoodles. Like a bottle of whiskey in the evening that combines the fellowship of friends with the sensation of well-being. But then comes the nasty hangover the morning after!
What are we to do about with our Snickerdoodles?!
Says Fyl 