| | If I were a superhero, this would be my weakness...
Current mood:  guilty I have sort of a deep dark secret. It's as if I had been a heroine addict many moons ago. I had gone through a rehab of sorts, and found my inner strength to suppress the inner demon. I had overcome this addiction. I never allowed myself to be in the same place with this substance. I had admitted my problem and believed that I had no power over it other than pure abstinence. I had really over come the hardest part of it. I was able to resist it on any occasion.
Friday, I was tested, and I failed. I can't really blame Publix. They have tempted me before with their "buy one get one free" bins of shame. It was shopping with the Devil's Advocate in the form of my husband that tricked me. I put up no fight at all. "Huh, look at that. Pringles has a loaded baked potato flavor." I mean, seriously, what was I supposed to do? Besides get two. I was fine in the store. We went down each of the isles with ease, picking out other food stuffs that we would enjoy the week through. It was at the checkout line that I started to notice a change. I watched the tall slender can as it made it was down the conveyor belt and I watch it go into it plastic bag. I then took note of the place that it was rested in the cart.
Once in the parking lot my husband started to load the groceries into the cart. I spotted the bag containing the can of Pringles emerge and my hand shot out, as if possessed. Taking the can and ripping the plastic top off and then the seal, my unknowing husband says, "you can't even wait 'til we get home, huh?" It was then that I looked at him with pitty. I had somehow managed to keep this from him. "No," I said, "this is coming with me." Getting into the driver's seat I was appalled by how easy the can slid into my cup holder. I can only compare what happened next to a sort of sci-fi assimilation. Like when the humans are turned to Borg, Cybermen, or Daleks. I was now part human and part mechanical drinking bird. My arm was not my own, traveling up and down from the can to my mouth. The part of me that was still human was trying to explain (between chips) the experience to my poor husband. I tried to explain that I was powerless against this monster. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't control it. All the two of us could do was wait for the can to be empty.
I am now again on the road to recovery. My husband understands that we can't buy Pringles anymore. So I leave you with this. You may have, in the past, seen a group of kids with the "fever for the flavor of a pringles." This may have seemed like a harmless marketing gimmick. I want you to watch it now, and see the pain it their eyes for the addiction not yet understood by society. I think a support group is in order. |
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