Confession...

I've recently confessed an addiction.  No, it isn't alcohol or drugs.  No, it isn't sex (just ask the hubs!) or anything quite that shocking.  "Hi, my name is Little Spot, and I've been addicted to sugar for, well, most of my adult life."  Recently, I have been addicted to one source of sugar in particular:  peanut butter M&Ms.  I was buying the medium and large size bulk bags to keep in my desk at work.  When I started eating what is probably the equivalent of 2 or 3 of the small check-out lane packs PER DAY, I realized I had a problem.  And, it was a problem I needed to resolve.  My bathroom scale was starting to show me exactly how big this issue (& my thighs/butt) had become.

So, now I can say, "Hi, my name is Little Spot, and I've been peanut butter M&M free for 5 days."  Notice I didn't say sugar free, just M&M free.  I'm crazy, not stupid.  If I were to quit sugar completely and cold turkey, I would probably find a bell tower or road rage someone off the highway.  Not good.  So, I'm just taking it one step at a time.

I recently confessed this addiction to the one member of my family who probably has the least ability to understand how addictive sugar can be as she eats almost no sugar at all.  She doesn't like cookies or cake.  She doesn't eat ice cream or even use syrup on her pancakes.  Truly, I don't get her as much as she probably doesn't get my problem with sugar.  The good news is that my confession to myself led me to confess to her which has also led me to confess in writing.  I'm now much more accountable, which I guess is part of the point of joining a 12-step program for something like alcoholism.

Today I went to the grocery and had to walk past the candy because it was literally across the aisle from the granola I wanted to purchase.  Score one for me!  I didn't even make eye contact.

But, I confess, I really, really wanted to.