What's Your Weakness?

It's no secret that I have a wicked, wicked sweet tooth. While I inherited most of my genes from my dad, it appears that I got this rogue sweet tooth gene from my mother. She's an amazing baker and there is always, always chocolate in the house. Unfortunately, I seem to be lacking a corresponding self-control gene, which makes having sweets in the house a threat to both a successful race season as well as the eyes of spectators at triathlons (spandex is NOT forgiving).

This morning I finished off a giant bag of pretzel M&Ms. And about 6 peanut butter cups. All before 6am. Hey, at least I didn't chase it with one (errr, two) pieces of pie. The chalkboard on the pantry still says, "What do you want more? Chocolate Chips or a PR?" I've obviously been ignoring it as I've gone straight for the sweets.

Enter: An Intervention. Mr. Sweetie had a look of horror on his face as he watched me demolish the bag of M&Ms this morning ("out of that whole bag, I only had ONE handful" he said mournfully). So this afternoon I called him at work and told him to hide the remaining Easter candy and not ever tell me where it is, even if I beg and plead. We're going to work out an allocation plan (probably won't be as liberal as 1 calorie burned = 1 mini egg earned). He proudly informed me tonight that I will never, ever find the candy. He says he's hidden it someplace really disgusting. I don't know how serious he is, but now I have an image of the purple bags of Mini Eggs floating in the toilet tank in my head, so maybe I'll just never eat the Mini Eggs he gives me. Problem solved.

Now I just have to do something about that pie...