Oreo Triathlon

When we were kids, my sister and I had matching T-shirts that said "Oreo Triathlon: Twist, Lick, Dunk!" I loved the t-shirts and am sad that they are long gone.

For the record, Chris wants to add that a triathlon is really "Swim, Run, Bike."

I should relay my Oreo dilemma from this past week. To satisfy the first of many pregnancy cravings, I made my husband go buy me a bag of Oreos. I deliberately avoided looking at the fat content. I was going to enjoy this. Then, of course, I had to avoid looking at my teeth in the mirror.

Well, after a couple days (rationing myself to three cookies at a time to savor the goodness) there were only six left. Nobody was around to see me eat all six or to stop me, but I knew that Chris would notice when there were none left, or that he would detect the poorly disposed of bag in the garbage can, no matter how hard I would try to hide it. I ate the first one. Really good. Second one. Third one. Then I had that dilemma: if I ate one more, there would only be two left. If I ate two more, there would only be one left, and that's just cruel to leave just one for my hardworking husband. I suppose I could eat them all, destroy all incriminating evidence, and go buy another bag of Oreos and no one would know the difference.

I used terrific self restraint and left two cookies (even though my glass had plenty of milk left for two more "dunks"). There they were, sitting on the counter, waiting for Chris to notice them. When he finally got home from work, I proudly announced, "Honey, I saved you two Oreos! And let me tell you, it was hard not to eat them!" He then responded, "Oh, you can have them!"

Oh, the cruelty!