If I was Catholic, I would say, "Bless me Father for I have sinned." If I was an alcoholic, I would say, "Hi. My name is Charlie and I am an alcoholic." Well, alcohol is not my problem... carbohydrates are.
So, since confession really is good for the soul, let me say, "Hi, my name is Charlie and I'm a carboholic."
Today was my grandson's 2nd birthday, so we went over to my son and daughter-in-law's. It started out great. She had a big plate of broccoli, carrots, celery and black olives... but my eyes drifted over to the counter where there are 4 large pizza boxes. I can see heat wrinkles coming off of them and the smell goes down into someplace very deep in my brain and gets stuck there.
The rest is kind of a blur. The last thing I remember is shoving the plate of raw vegetables away from me as if it were a tray of sticks and dry leaves. I had 3 pieces of EXTREMELY doughychewybready pizza with meat and cheese and peppers and olives and sauce ...and then came out the devil's food cake with buttercream icing.
There. I said it. I feel kind of like a tick right now and it's been 3 hours since I ate. There is a tight and aching lump in the center of my stomach right under my heart.
I know eventually it will go away, tomorrow will be brand new and I will pick up where I left off.
I just needed to come clean.