Every day at work, various sales reps and vendors drop off fat and sugar laden goodies in hopes we will be lured into buying products from them. Doughnuts, pies, cakes, homemade cookies, muffins, cheese balls. And then there’s the Mac-Daddy of them all: the bacon topped maple bars. It is a long, deep fried doughnut bar, with a sticky, sugary maple glaze, topped with a piece of smoky, fatty bacon. I’m pretty sure my cholesterol goes up 50 points just from smelling it.
Every day I battle valiantly against the junk food, every day I say, “Get thee behind me, Satan!” Every day I deny the lusts of the… tastebuds… and refuse to eat their devil-sweeties.
So imagine my shock when yesterday I arrived at my sister’s house to watch the Superbowl and I found this waiting for me:
Thaaaaat’s right, my sister bought the demon Bacon Maple Bars for the Superbowl! A wolf in sheep’s clothing is what she is!
You may notice the bar in the middle, the one with a slab of bacon atop it, where the end appears to have been lopped off. I may have done that. I may have eaten that bite. Just one bite!
I feel like I need to go to confession and do penance. And I’m not even Catholic.
