The Snickerdoodle Dilemma

I have a sweet tooth. Actually I have a whole set of sweet teeth.

I had just had a heavy lunch, topped off three large pieces of European chocolate. Armed with more than the recommended daily sugar intake, I was set for the second half of the workday. But that was until I stopped at Sheri’s desk. Sitting on the counter was a see-through, smell-through bag of Snickerdoodles. UUUM--memories of baking with my dad wafted cinnamon aromas into my brain cells.

“You must have some,” urged my evil dessert twin who lives between the folds of my middle-aged belly.

“Maybe just one,” I responded. It was going to be a memorable moment—just me and my Snickerdoodle. I resolved to eat it slowly, relishing each little bite. Instead, like a dog head to head with a pound of meat, I snarled and stuffed the cookie into my drooling mouth. It was quite an indecent spectacle—right there in the office hallway! I didn’t stop to appreciate the snickerdoodly lightness or enjoy the cinnamony sugar granules. It was just a greedy, self-serving, three-step process: gnaw, drool, and swallow. I didn’t even chew that worthy Snickerdoodle.

And before it could get down my throat—I wanted more. I turned around and went back. Complimenting Sheri on her baking skills, I apologetically said, “I have to have another.” She graciously encouraged me to take a handful.

“I’m going to enjoy these,” I said to myself, truly believing that I had total self-control. But just as the cookie got closer to my mouth, it was another gnaw, drool and swallow.

Five minutes and several cookies later I felt the thick, sweet, nauseas aftertaste of Snickerdoodles. Funny, how I had forgotten that nasty aftertaste. Somehow I remembered only the initial joy of biting into one.

Life has many Snickerdoodles. Like a bottle of whiskey in the evening that combines the fellowship of friends with the sensation of well-being. But then comes the nasty hangover the morning after!

What are we to do about with our Snickerdoodles?!