The Fix

I just needed a little fix.

It started last Sunday. We were talking about it at Holiday Club. How I went through a phase of my life where I went through pounds of the stuff. I should have known better than to talk about it. Got me thinking about it, craving it, again.

I fought hard. I stuck to my guns and I fought that urge for almost seven days. I was doing good. I was keeping my nose clean and yet in the back of my mind, the nagging voice kept calling. "You know you want some... just a little fix...".

By the following Sunday afternoon I was worn down, exhausted from fighting the urge so I gave in. "I only need a little bit. Just to get rid of the craving, I'll get a little bit and then share with friends". I slipped on my shoes, all the while knowing what I was about to do was wrong. I knew I'd regret it. I knew I'd hate myself a little when I was done. But the craving was stronger than my pride. I pulled my hoodie over my head and grabbed my keys.

My heart raced in anticipation as I walked briskly towards my demise. "Just five more minutes and I'll have it, just pay the gal and keep moving, don't think about it too much, just go!"

I got home and put my sweat pants on and curled up on the couch with Oreo. I cut the top and peeled back the wrapping to reveal the golden, oatmeal color flecked with a darker, richer chocolate chips. My mouth waters; Nestle Tollhouse, how I've missed you.

I told myself I'd stop at 3 cookies worth. That was half a tube ago. I fell and I fell hard.

When all was said and done I'd eaten a whole tube in a 24 hour period. I'm not proud of myself, I'm not too hard on myself, but I have learned that I'll never be able to make my future children cookies. They'll never make it to the oven, and I have to stay clear of the stuff for good.

My name is Lindsey, and I'm a cookie dough addict.

Balls