My body has spiraled into a deep chasm of decay. Everything started to crumble about a month ago during a stop at the Maverik gas station.
I'll just be honest with you. I like to eat me some fat, pink frosted sugar cookies. Unfortunately, Maverik happened to be out of fat, pink frosted sugar cookies during my visit. So I settled for the sub-par oatmeal raisin cookie. Without warning, I died and went to heaven.
Ever since then, I have had a mad craving for oatmeal raisin cookies. But this also triggered an all-out, diabetes-inducing need for all things sugar.
It's as if every ounce of self-control has been decayed. I'm popping cookies like I just ended a hunger strike. I down raspberry-filled donuts without remorse. I'm ingesting Nutter Butters frequently enough that my tongue is beginning to resemble a peanut. I realize that my bones are slowly crystallizing into a sweet confectionery treat. And I don't care. I'm trying to feel guilty. Really. I'm trying.
And to speed my trajectory down this slippery slope of sugar, I made oatmeal cookies this weekend. This is akin to a meth addict deciding it's a good idea to start his own meth lab in the bathtub. And I was grateful that nobody in my house likes oatmeal raisin cookies. I didn't want to share anyway.