Doughnuts: delicious sugar-and-fat bombs with a siren song.
They pop up at work, meetings, church, etc., and I have trouble turning them down.
Somebody once told me his eating habits were healthy until he was around doughnuts on Saturday. I admitted to also having the doughnut weakness.
“Oh, they know your name, too?” he replied.
Things were a little dangerous when we had doughnuts at work twice a week. Even if I resisted all day Wednesday, there was Thursday…
To my relief, the company stopped getting them.
Still, I much enjoyed a rare Krispy Kreme recently. My co-workers obligingly finished the box before I gave into the temptation of seconds.
My history with doughnuts goes back to early childhood.
When my family visited my grandparents, Dad and Papa would take my brother and me with them to “the coffee shop,” diner-type bar inside a grocery store.
Papa and Dad drank coffee, and they bought Eric and me small sodas. Sometimes we kids were allowed the novel, exciting treat of a doughnut, too.
Eric always chose one with chocolate icing, but I was partial to glazed doughnuts.
Maybe I could have one for old time’s sake before I hit the gym.