To the Editor: I am an adult male in my thirties, ok, forties, in great shape. A family man. Hardworking. Loyal. I don't drink or gamble or smoke. Not even pot. But I have a secret.
I am addicted to Pop-Tarts. Strawberry, never frosted, sometimes chocolate, frosted, and occasionally, around Christmas, frosted brown sugar.
There, I said it, aloud, although anonymously. Can the voices in my head please stop now?
I can't believe it has come to this. Ten years ago I exercised only occasionally and sugar highs gave me the energy I needed to get through a tough workout. I bought my first box a decade ago, memories from childhood and college. All those flavors to choose from.
As my kids got older, I exercised more. How could Pop-Tarts be a bad thing when it was getting me to do a good thing?
Then another development. The high fructose corn syrup from the Pop-Tarts wasn't enough. I craved more. I added a sugar drink. Iced tea mix. Lipton, 4C, doesn't matter, three level tablespoons, that's all.
The addiction caught up to me, I had no idea I couldn't stop. At the gym some guy was talking to me about what he ate ahead of his workout.
"Two devil dogs and a coke," he said.
I gave him my most incredulous look. "Maybe you can try something healthier," I replied.
And then a rush. Pop-Tarts. What if someone finds out? What will people think of me?
I told my mother. That was hard. I may have blamed my wife for buying them. My mom said she didn't raise me to be that kind of son. She was disappointed.
Is there a patch for this? An AA program? Inpatient? Does Obamacare cover it?
No need to answer, I know what I have to do. The guilt alone. I've never liked blueberry. I will switch to those. I know that will work.