My wonderful, evil grandmother

I've been doing really well on this new path to Skinnyville. I've cut out sugar, snacks, fried food, fast food and all things junk. I even walked past the bakery in Walmart today without a second glance. No bread for me, thanks.


I was feeling pretty dang smug today, proud of my newfound willpower. That is, until I stopped by my Grandmother's house after work. I'm one of ten grandchildren and eight great-grands, but I'm pretty confident that I'm the favorite. I now know this for a fact, because when I walked in the door my grandmother excitedly pushed me into the kitchen where she unveiled a fresh batch of peanut butter fudge, made especially for me.


My grandmother is the best cook in the world so I know this is the best peanut butter fudge in the world. She forced me to take the entire pan home "so no one else will eat it all". I couldn't tell her no, because making fudge is no small feat.


So, now I sit in my living room, glancing towards the kitchen every few minutes, with that fudge taunting me. It's practically screaming "EAT ME!" It's finally happened. My grandmother has joined the ranks of Doritos and sour cream.