Scraping The Bottom of the Barrel of My Dignity--Tastes Like Frosting!

The pregnancy cravings of myth and legend were a large part of my decision to get knocked up. I mean, if I can't drink, and I'm going to get funny-shaped anyway, what is stopping my indulgence?  Sadly, the bizarre pickle-raw egg combos or whatever I was expecting never materialized.  Much like my enormous D-cup bra, no magic has happened in that department.  I will admit to a growing sweet-tooth but that's not too unusual, right?
Have you ever watched the show Intervention, and the addicts are just going about their normal day-to-day lives and the black screen comes up and it reads something like "Jonny spends up to $6,000 a day on meth" and you're like HOLY SHIT! How does it get that bad? Well, I'll tell ya what happens.
Yesterday I walked in to the Weis market here in town, the awesomest, grossest, center of all scum-baggary, grocery store ever.  In a bit of a hurry, I knew I needed 2 things.  A salad (HOW this place has the best salads in the area I will never know- or question), and cookies with just the right cookie-to-frosting ratio.  I spotted what seemed to me to be slightly over the top, sugar-wise, but relatively harmless.  The item in question was a package of 6 sandwiches made up of chocolate chip cookies and about 4 lbs of frosting.  The counter girl's reaction should have tipped me off.
As I was checking out, Crystal, so smug behind the counter, said to me in a shaming tone "those look reallly sweet".  It's not like I was at Whole Foods for Christ's sake, I was surrounded by people who call Hawiian Punch "juice" and smoke cigarettes while filling their children's baby bottles with Mountain Dew.  Somehow I'm out of line?  Lookit, Crystal, these aren't for you.  They are for my soon-to-be diabetic fetus.  I won't ask how you lost your teeth, you don't need to worry about how I'm gonna lose mine.
I got my treasure home and ate one, followed by the other half of Matt's that he couldn't finish.  Still thinking I don't have a problem, I schemed further.  If Matt was going to judge my cookie intake, along with Crystal, I knew one person who would be down for a nice sugar rush.  My 7 year old niece Reilly.  This kid is truly a connoisseur of all things sweet.  She's got all the bakeries in town ranked.  You want a party with hookers and blow? You're gonna call Charlie Sheen.  More of a frosting and sprinkles kind of person?  Yeah, give this kid a call.  Doing my best to act casual, like her mind wasn't about to be blown, I offered her a cookie.  As expected, her eyes popped out of her head.  She was PUMPED.  Awesome, I thought, an excuse to eat another cookie and the chance to be someone's unquestioned hero.  I devoured mine in about 30 seconds, not counting the time it took to lick my fingers.  I looked up and Reilly is done for! She couldn't finish hers!  "These are sooo good I can't finish mine" she said.  This child, who eats whipped cream on bacon is telling me that I over did it?  The last green thing she ingested was likely a Skittle. Chicken fingers are her main source of nutrition. And I out junk-fooded her?  This, my friends, is how dabbling a little in a substance, any substance, can lead from a casual "I think I'd like some ice cream for dessert" indulgence to smoking stolen meth on the way to rehab abuse.  I have tasted that shame.  Its fucking delicious. And if you are interested, sold along the walls in the bakery section of Weis.