I Have a Confession to Make: Fruit Basket

I know what you’re thinking: Fruit basket? What could possibly be wrong with a fruit basket?

White and milk chocolate-covered banana chunks, that’s what.
I ate one.

Savored it, really. Then licked the melted chocolate off my fingers.

It was really freakin’ good.

But I’ve been ingesting more sugar-poison than I should lately. And last weekend during my mom’s visit, I think I had a cocktail every day for three days in a row.

It’s making me nervous, this loosey-goosey food behavior.

I’ve been eating like a champ for meals and snacks — and then I’ll indulge just a dangerous, insidious, scary little bit… like that decadent banana bite or last night’s low-fat ice cream.

ICE CREAM, people. With no powerful protein to balance it out. Just ice cream.

You can’t see me, but I’m hanging my head in (mock) shame.

Stupid hormones. Stupid discipline. Stupid scale.

No more sugar poison. This is my pledge to you (and me).

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