I am not allowed to buy any more wafer cookies

Wafer cookies, begone! I curse the day I let you enter my home!

Uh, that would be yesterday, when I made the well-known mistake of shopping hungry. It's a bad idea in the same category, but not nearly as bad as, driving drunk, or performing a ten-hour reconstructive surgery after drinking seventeen cups of strong coffee laced with LSD and packing two nostrils with cocaine.

Mmm. Wafer cookies, I thought. Sweet wafer cookies, the kind my mother never bought for us because they were full of sugar and white flour and crap, I thought. Well, I'm hungry, and I'm a grown-up, and I've got snap beans and spinach and herbal tea in my cart already, I thought. But I don't think it was very clear thinking, because the cookies already had performed their Vulcan mind-meld or whatever on me. I was in their tractor beam. I was ready to don their white robes and cut off all contact with my family and friends and change my name and polish their Rolls-Royces on the compound and drink their Koolaid.

Why just now, I went downstairs to take a banana bread out of the oven. I made this so-called banana bread with wheat germ, and I nobly used organic bananas, whole wheat flour, and eggs, and halved the sugar, because the regular recipe tastes way too sweet to me. And what did I do? I ate THREE MORE wafer cookies. For no reason except that they were in the kitchen and so was I. These in addition to the ones I had after dinner.

Maybe the antidote is to go read the revolting ingredient list again. Because it's not even organic hydrogenated vegetable oil, or emulsifier, or cocoa mass, (whatever the hell that is).