Addictions

Bruce and I have been watching a lot of the A&E channel lately.  There is a ghost-show called “Paranormal State” where students from Penn State investigate the truth about haunted places. They haven’t really confirmed any paranormal activity, but there is a lot of whispering, jumping and thudding. We think its a pretty great show.  One Sunday night, long after Bruce had fallen into his post-meal couch-slumber, a show called “Intervention” aired on A&E.  The show consists of family members confronting their loved ones about their drug addictions. Most of the “contestants” (as I like to call the addicts) are much like me: blonde, young, outgoing.  Somehow these girls have fallen from the high branches of a loving, supportive family tree, to the deep pit of despair, self-loathing, and addiction. Although it was painful for me to watch, I couldn’t peel my eyes from the screen. I watched in horror as a young woman shot heroin into her neck, and shook my head in disgust as she pled with her family for another chance. 

The show almost hit too close to home. Being blonde, young and outgoing, I realize how easily I could have fallen into that lifestyle.  I also understand that I am not completely invulnerable to temptation.  I am thankful for the daily support of Bruce, my girlfriends, and my family. Why, just two days ago, I emailed my good friend Lindsey, threatening to indulge in a naughty treat. And she reminded me why giving in to addictions, even once, can be so harmful. 

“Don’t go downstairs,” she said. “Those donuts aren’t worth it, and the powdered sugar gets everywhere.”

“But I’m so HUNGRY.” I pleaded.

“Lunch is two hours away. You can do it.”

And I did. I ate my apple. My apple that didn’t, and never will, taste like a Twix. Or a donut.  And at lunch, I ate my Kashi Bar from Hell. I know that, even though Kashi leaves the “from Hell” part off, the bars are in fact manufactured in Hell, and are probably served there too. The wrapper boasts a delicious and healthy combination of chocolate, almond and toffee.  I call that false advertisement. If that black bark wrapped around the compacted cat vomit is chocolate, then my name is Fancy McNutt.

Yesterday, I backslid. I heard about a new cupcake dealer in town, and I secretly planned to go score some chocolate. Bruce and Kyle had plans to go to the shooting range, and I pleasantly helped him pack his equipment and wished him a happy afternoon. As soon as the car pulled away, I grabbed my keys and ran for the car. I parked on a side street, out of view of the busy Magazine Street traffic. I snuck around parked cars and stealthily entered the store. As I entered, the cupcake chemists froze and looked at me.

“I’m in bad need of a cupcake,” I said.

“The menu is on the table,” said the girl with the bag of powder.

I perused the menu, unable to decide which sweet taste of heaven would fulfill my urges.  I looked at the samples in the glass cases. The quality was good, and the cost was moderate. I felt safe in there. We were all there for the same reason. It was the sugar that brought us together, and we were bonded by our shared desires. I selected three chocolate cupcakes with vanilla icing, and three vanilla cupcakes with chocolate icing–one with sprinkles, one with m&ms, and one with marshmellows, and graham crackers on top.  They packed the cakes in an inconspicuous, non-assuming box. Each cake sat in its own little holder. My feet barely touched the ground as I floated to the car, intoxicated with the sweet smell of cupcakes.

When I arrived home, I put two cupcakes on a plate and walked to the couch. I ate both at the same time, alternating bites vanilla and chocolate. I let the sugar and cake melt on my tongue. I immediately felt the rush of sugar enter my bloodstream. I sat there, dazed, allowing my senses to absorb every morsel of my guilty pleasure like a giant sponge. The sugar high must have lasted at least a few minutes, I can’t remember. I woke up a few hours later on the couch, the cupcake wrappers and still on the table. My head ached, and my stomach was sour. I was already experiencing withdrawals.

Was it worth it? Probably not, but I ate two more cupcakes today anyway. There are only two more left. Hopefully this binge will be my last…for a while.