I don’t have any Twinkie guilt, but I do have Twinkies.

Aren’t they pretty?  I filled up with gas at the 7-11 and, with much anticipation and forethought, found them in the aisle across from the broiling hot dog machine.

I saw my endocronologist today.  She looks like Halle Berry and is young and adorable.  We’ve been trying for a year and a half now to discover why I am not losing weight.  I showed her my exercise chart (averaging 100 minutes a day) and she called me an athlete.

No one–and I mean NO ONE–has ever called me an athlete before.

It was quite thrilling.  So I bragged about my yoga groin/hip sprain.  That’s what athletes do.

Oh, and I lost a pound.  A pound in four months of yogurt and blueberries and Atkins bars and no bread and healthy (gag me) eating.  One lousy pound.

She also told me I should indulge my Wheat Thins love occasionally (didn’t I tell you she was adorable?).

She told me, “Listen to your body.”

(My body says stuff like stay in bed, paint your toenails purple, eat all the pepperoni you want.  It does NOT say eat a couple of Wheat Thins and a tub of tofu sprinkled with flax seed.)

I decided to celebrate my athlete status and my stupid one-pound weight loss with something totally forbidden and bad for me.  When was the last time you ate a Twinkie?  Years, I’ll bet.  Me, too.  I can’t wait.  I think I’ll drag it out for an hour or so.

Conversation when I arrived home this afternoon:

Banjo Man:  Wow, you went to a consignment store.  What are these?
Me:  Wilton baking pans.  I can make my own sheet cakes now.  Don’t touch the Twinkies.
Banjo Man:  Twinkies?  You’re eating Twinkies?
Me:  Yep.  After I take a picture of them for the blog.
Banjo Man: (peering closer)  How many are in there?
Me:  Three.  It’s a bonus pack.
Banjo Man:  Well, that’s okay.  After all, how many Twinkies are you going to eat after you die?     None, so you might as well–
Me:  What do you mean, none???  There will be Twinkies in Heaven!  Thousands of Twinkies!!  I’ll be eating all the Twinkies I want every day.  There will be DOGS and FABRIC and MUSIC–”
Banjo Man (holding up his hands in surrender) :  I get it!  Twinkies in Heaven or otherwise, what’s the point of being good?
Me:  Exactly.

Preview of the afterlife.