My Cereal Confession.

I have a confession to make.

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I'm sitting here, eating a bowl of Cap'n Crunch cereal. It was on sale today at the grocery store for cheap. And it's delicious. Peek in my front window and you'll see me munching it down. No big secret, right?

Oh, but wait.
It's my third-ish bowl today. Alone. Just today. And that's just the official count. It doesn't include the little bit that I add at the end to finish up the milk.

And as I'm sitting here staring into that crispy-crunchy, yellow-y, devoid of nutrients, and who-knows-what's-in-this goodness, I think I'm finally starting to understand why people feel the need to make regular, religious confessions.  See, I have this mosquito of guilt hovering nearby that won't leave me alone. And all I want to tell it is that I know I've got a problem, okay? IknowIknowIknow: I have absolutely no self-control when it comes to sugary cereal.
Zippo. Zero. None.

And I'm not kidding. If a box of junk cereal sits around here for longer than a couple days with me around, I would be very surprised. Healthy cereal lasts weeks. It's why I don't ever buy the junky stuff, I literally will eat it ALL. But if, for some reason, I do buy it...then watch out milk, because all you're good for is making cereal taste better.
Maybe it has something to do with the instant sugar rush. Maybe it's because it's just the easiest thing to grab when I'm hungry, no prep needed. But after thoroughly shrinking myself on the subject, I do know that the intensity with which I eat it is not just about it tasting good. It's almost like, because I know how easily it lures me in, that I need to get it gone, and fast.
SOoo....into my tummy, hurryhurryhurry.
Productive, right?
Yeesh.

I feel much better.
And so, because I have a problem--and know it, dangit!--sugary cereal will continue to enter my house very very rarely.
And if you're having it for breakfast at your house, don't invite me over. I mean, unless you want me to help you finish it off with no shame. Well, a little shame, but shame that I've embraced. With embraced shame.

Poor D-Hubby, Baby-Rae, and all my future kids.
Bet they didn't know that they were signing up for a life of healthy breakfast cereal.