The Granola Temptress

I can't buy granola bars.  Well, I mean, I physically can.  It just never works out for me.

Before I go a little farther let me admit that I'm well aware that "granola bar" is actually secret code for chocolate bars you can justifiably eat for breakfast.  I've had ones called things like, "Peanut Butter Caramel Chunk."  or maybe "Decadent Double Chocolate."  The term Granola and about eight flakes of oatmeal means they can market to mothers who don't want to feel guilty about what they're sending their kids to the bus-stop with.

All this taken into account you'd think I could be an adult about granola bars.  Sometimes I think I can.  I walk down the aisle and think to myself, "okay, well, I'll just buy this box and take one in my lunch this week."

...Right.

Here's what really happens.  I get home, open the box, and eat one well I unpack.  That evening I'll eat two before bed.  Chocolate for supper anyone?  The next morning it's two for breakfast and that leaves one for work.  Which I'll eat on my coffee break.

I'm actually well versed in nutrition and follow that a majority of the time.  I was, however, raised having desert after dinner.  We always had homemade cookies or cake.  From scratch.  My Mother is a housewife.  And now I can pass on those.  It's those darn processed granola bars that we only got twice a year when my Grandma would give them out as treats.

So now I can't buy them.  I suppose I could just go through fifty boxes in a month and wear the learned novelty out.  Also develop diabetes, gain twenty pounds and get out of breath walking up stairs...  On second thought, I'll just walk past them when I'm picking up a box of cereal.

Because when they're in my cupboard I turn back into a buzzed little kid with a severe sugar craving.  Only this time with no imposed limits.