Betsy’s Cookies, Part Deux
Come on, people. This is crazy. And annoying. And… impossible to escape.
The lure of Betsy’s cookies, that is. We thought we were done with this chapter, right? I’m off desserts for 40 days, blah blah blah, Betsy brought cookies to my house over a week ago and last week I was tempted but didn’t eat one, blah blah blah…
But that one freakin cookie that is left? The one – just one! – that has sat in that plastic bag for the entirety of these nine days since she brought them all over, and made it through not one, but two day trips to the beach, one yesterday and one today with my entire family and friends, and you are telling me that my husband and my kids and my friends are eating the hummus sandwiches and the tuna sandwiches and the Z Bars and the chips and the popcorn and the seaweed and the figs and the melon and the grapes and just about every mother f**ing other thing we bought EXCEPT the last homemade chocolate chip cookie that Betsy made us???
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????
I realize now that I am a chocolate chip/desertaholic. Because no one else seems to care. Seems to mind. Seems to NOTICE, that – HELLO!?? – a CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE IS LITERALLY STARING YOU WHEN YOU OPEN THE SNACK BAG, ITS CRISPY GOLDEN EYE WITH ITS GOOEY CHOCOLATE PUPIL(S) AND ITS FUZZY, CRUMBY LASHES, BATTING AT YOU, SEDUCING YOU, PRACTICALLY OFFERING YOU MONEY JUST TO PICK THE DARN THING UP AND EAT IT???????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Shit. I have a problem.
You know how, when you don’t like your drink or you already drank enough to get a buzz, and you leave some wine or half a beer or a few fingers left in your cup, and as you take your cup back to the bar or the counter or to the trash, that guy or girl comes up to you, and is like, “You’re going to finish that right? You’re not throwing that away, are you?”
That guy/girl. Who cannot BEAR to see an ounce of alcohol not be poured down someone’s throat, if it has already been served to that someone. Maybe you are that guy (or girl). If you are, I say to you: Chill out, dude. It’s just wine/beer/a martini. I had enough. You have your own drink. Go focus on something that matters, like getting our Congress to take its head out of its collective ass.
But now, I realize… I am that guy. Or rather, that (grownup) girl. I cannot fathom how anyone related to me by marriage or blood, or anyone who calls me their friend, could NOT have already eaten that cookie that was swimming around the snack bag for two days and counting.
Sighhhhhhhhhh.
I really hope at the end of forty days I don’t even notice things like that. Things like – sniff!! – the last Betsy cookie in the bag.
Sigh.
c/xo,
Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)
The self restraint I'm using here is MASSIVE.
You might have to throw it out (horrors). It’s torture just knowing it’s been abandoned there….
I guess you are right. So hard to do!
Okay, now I love praise AND attention as much (or more) as the next guy, but your family is right…that cookie is worth ignoring now…the texture is all gone, the taste has faded and well, I would be embarrassed for someone to taste it and know it was mine at this point.
BatSheva, my dear friend, take a deep breath, walk in to your kitchen, pick up the bag and bid a fond farewell to the poor imitation of what was a decent cookie a couple of weeks ago!
After RH if you still want one (and I doubt you will) I will be happy to make you as many (or few) as you would like….xo
Hahahaha I’m sure you are right, but for me – that cookie is like the hope diamond. How can anyone not admire it’s beauty? It’s perfection? Good gracious. I’m throwing away the Hope Diamond. Great. Some diet… (and yes I’ll take you up on that offer, thank you very much!!) xoxo
Actually, if you took a bite of it now, it might cure you forever of your hankerin’ for CCCs. Bet it’s solid as a rock, and not in a good way.
LOL good thinking! But I threw it out, in the end. Willpower (& the support of friends & family) prevails!