Dear Doughnut

Dear Doughnut,

I love your soft, somewhat oily and slick smooth dough. I’ve eaten you in private, in public on the beach and in local flea markets when I couldn’t resist your round temptation staring back at me through smudged and perfectly fingerprinted  plexiglass.

For years I told myself no, Tina. Then just a piece. Then the whole. Then a bite of another. Then another. Then another. I couldn’t be stopped because I knew you were a “treat” so I had to get as much of you as I could at one time. Devour.  I was crazy for your sugary sweet goodness that made my gut expand with happiness.

Today I can eat your round bottom or pop one of your holes in my mouth without thinking I’m a terrible woman for enjoying you. I no longer eat you and give myself license to “go off the rails.” Sometimes your chased with a salad or fruit, a burger or something homemade as long as I’m thinking about answering my hunger.  It took me a while to learn that a one night stand with you is not only ok, it’s pure ecstasy. And who isn’t allowed to experience ecstasy? 

You’re a beautiful, curvy, slippery slope of joyful, wild abandon. I know when I need you, and I know when I really want you. There is room for you in my life.

Call you when I want you.

Love,

Tina