It’s eating at me, literally.
As I am watching yet another mindless hour of numbing television, it hits me.
I see it in my head and I can almost taste it if I allow my brain to use its super power.
Juicy and crumbly deliciousness all rolled into one sinful confection of felicity: a blueberry muffin.
I don’t know why the craving is hitting my taste buds, but it is overwhelming me because I know there is nothing in my pantry or refrigerator that will even come close – failure to meet the craving is imminent (spelling? – spell check likes it but my brain doesn’t…hmm?).
There’s a ‘light’ fruit on the bottom yogurt, coincidentally blueberry flavored, but that won’t cut it even if I add a few granules of Fiber One to add yet another layer of flavor.
There’s a variety of sugar free, low sugar, light jams and jellies in the fridge but even on a piece of toast it will never be the muffin’s twin or even its third-cousin, twice removed.
I want a blueberry muffin and I want it bad.
I start reciting the addicts serenity prayer in my head but all I hear is ‘God Grant me a blueberry muffin…’ over and over again.
I’m a lost soul navigating through the downward spiral that is my own body’s betrayal of willpower and self-control.
I am a victim to the combination of flour, milk, eggs, fresh blueberries, sugar and streusel topping that lives on my imaginary muffin.
This show is doing nothing for me, especially when someone begins to eat a muffin on the screen.
Now the show is taunting me. It knows my weakness and it knows I am breaking.
I could get in the car and drive to the local twenty-four hour donut shop (I am avoiding product placement and needless advertising here – otherwise I would have said Dunkin’ Donuts) but I am stronger than the desire to get in my car for food – that would truly highlight my addiction and my defeat.
So I convince myself that I will have a muffin in the morning for breakfast where I can burn the calories and the carbs throughout the day.
I convince myself enough that I know I can go to sleep without dreaming of the muffin.
I convince myself enough that I eat the yogurt and satisfy my sweet tooth for another eight hours.
In the morning, I don’t have the craving anymore.
The need for the blueberry muffin is gone.
I have resisted and defeated the craving.
I am victorious over my addiction, save for one small factor.
I am now craving a blueberry waffle.