I wish I could have my cake and not eat it

There he is again: the screaming, crying toddler at the bookstore. You've tried all the tricks you learned in parenting class, but to no avail. Frustrated, weary eyes stare at you and your child before returning to the glare of a laptop, and you cannot help but wish that you hadn't brought the kid with you. It's a love-hate relationship, and sometimes you wish you didn't love him so much.

My embarrassingly huge sweet tooth is becoming a bit of a headache. I like to think I have a generally healthful diet, but all boundaries and feelings of satiety fly out of the window the minute a masterfully assembled sculpture of flour, butter and sugar is placed in front of me.

And semi-sweet chocolate-you can't forget the chocolate.

It's almost like looking straight into the eyes of someone you love and restraining yourself from enveloping him with your arms. It's more than just discipline, it's an act of sacrifice.

I sacrifice my sanity when I indulge in a cookie or a piece of cake, or-as in the case of today's gastronomical history thus far-both. While I'm savoring every bite of some confection, I am completely in the moment. My tongue is melting, taking on the form of the jewel itself-my teeth are massaged by soft buttery hugs. 

But the minute it's all gone, an overwhelming feeling of guilt swallows me alive.

And then I'm the one being digested.