Dear Family and Friends,
I have to admit something. It’s a deep, dark secret that I’ve tried to keep hidden for a long time. It’s my skeleton. It’s my shame. Kind of.
Those so-called “generic”, funny shaped Cheerios in my cupboard?
Really? They were, once upon a time, Lucky Charms. Full of colorful marshmallows in the shapes of lucky stars, blue diamonds, leprechaun hats, rainbows. Beautiful. Sweet.
When no one was looking, and even sometimes when they are, I eat all those wonderfully shaped marshmallows out of the bag. I shovel them in my mouth, either singly or by the troth-full.
I do. And have no guilt about it.
The colored powder on the bottom of the bag, those aren’t bugs. Those are the crumbs. Evidence. The red ring around me. The neon finger calling me out.
It’s a sickness. One which, while I’ve come clean and exposed myself, I don’t want help. I can quit any time I want to.
As long whoever keeps bringing that cereal into my house, stops.