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Dyin’ for Donuts


Bang, Bang, Bang

I like to bang my head on things when I am frustrated.  I do enough head banging at work to rival any rock star in his crazed element of vein pumping music.  It is funny, it is quirky, it relieves stress, it is ME.  But head banging at home when not ON STAGE is serious business.  So why the physical self-flagellation?  Because what did I do after sliding off my exercise machine in a slime of sweat? I went and saw it.  The glisten of the outer coating of sweet glazing.  The (what is left of my) taste buds flowering. My eyes soft with yearning.  Yes, I was in love with a temptation I just couldn’t resist.

The donut.

I love donuts.  I know they are the devil of the health world.  But, ahh, the sweet chewy bite, the immediate dissolve over the ecstatic taste buds, the gulp of pure bliss.  And in 2 bites it was done.  Temptation fail.  I confess to even poking around a bit in body parts for a couple of crumbs.  In my nutty FB days, I would post original and quirky sayings like “God gave us cleavage as an easy place to put our snacks”.  Now I just post them here in my quote series.  One can’t teach an old dog a new walking trail, even when led to it.  Now I am tempted to put that one out as a quote.  Someone stop me now.  Please, no I mean it.

I don’t buy donuts in general for the fact that I love them so very much.  Growing up in Norristown, PA (the armpit of the Philadelphia area with the best food in the world), we had the Most Amazing donut place in the universe.  Suzi Joe’s.  It put chains like Dunkin, Lamars and Krispy to shame.  Of course, there are no Suzi Jo donuts in KC, so I have to make do with Lamar’s.  Ok, but even “ok” is bliss on my liking for the death trap.

But I lost all that sweating to two huge bites that lasted 10 seconds.  A glorious 10 seconds, but not worth wasting my session to the same amount of empty calories! I want to ban donuts from my house.  Unfortunately that would cause Pinkley civil war.  Once a month we get donuts.  Period. It is a time-honored tradition not to be messed with.  Ever.  I suggested we cut it out and oh the horror, the yells, the tears.  I fear donut loving is a genetic trait, and both my children Have It.

So I now have another little 250 calorie bit of fat to work off.  Darn donut.  Of course,  I could tell my husband not to buy my share.  But then I would look pathetically at his, and grump around all day feeling Sorry For Myself.  At some point, I need to Get Over This Hurdle.

I think it makes it harder for me because I don’t taste many carbs from chemo, but I do taste donuts.  So giving up something that I love is harder.  Of course, I love Reece’s more, and thank you GOD!  You didn’t take away my taste for Reece’s either!  Sigh, another temptation that I live with, but on a daily basis, my husband (and God) thinking that I need something good to taste everyday.  Or it’s self-preservation.  Yup, I think self-preservation is more likely.  Give the She-Bear a treat and she won’t be a nag.


There is a treat I burn to eat!

It twinkles with promises soft and sweet.

I scrunch up my nose so not to smell

the oil and sugar that leads to fat hell.

I screw up my eyes so I may not see

the soft-glowing glaze beckoning me.

I close off my ears so I may not hear

the appreciative gulps rivaling gulps of the year.

Temptation, a personal torture-fest

as each of us has one that out strips the rest.

While the donut is innocuous and sinless

gluttony is certainly not God-blessed.

Sin is sin no matter the pest.

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