sweeeet.

I have a wicked sweet tooth.

For perhaps, teeth would be more appropriate and accurate.

Honestly, my love for sweets is rather chronic.

In fact, I’m pretty much the fifth Golden Girl.

(photo via)

I like to imagine it began growing up, in a precarious area of our home kitchen that I lovingly deemed “The Danger Zone,” due to its proclivity to harbor treats of all varieties. It was difficult to ignore and rarely avoided.

More recently, I’ve had this not-so-secret dream of owning my own bakery, and often I find myself dreaming up cupcake flavors or sugary cafe names.

Many of my sweet-filled memories center around time with my favorite Mama in my favorite City (NYC, of course). Walking too far, talking about Lindsay Lohan and matters of eternal significance, shopping, Broadway, and as my crowning moments, indulging in cupcakes at Magnolia Bakery, Frrrrozen Hot Chocolate at Serendipity 3, and colorful confections at Dylan’s Candy Bar. Yum. I laughed as my mom made lame jokes on the 4 hour bus ride, cemented my love for Phantom of the Opera, and definitely got my fill of good eats. Mostly treats. Hmmm. Probably should get on that treadmill now…

(At Serendipity 3. Oprah spills the secret recipe for the Frrrrrozen Hot Chocolate here. Go. Make. NOW.)

For now, Utah makes do. There is plenty of occasions involving sugar of which I lovingly think: sharing cazookies with sweet fellas at the adorable Chocolate and celebratory (or just normal Tuesday) cupcakes with the roomie at Sweet Tooth Fairy. And like I posted about previously, downing heavenly pie-shakes at Sammy’s.

I think there’s something to be said for occasional indulgence. For enjoying the sweet things. After all:

(photo via)

Sure, there is obviously matters of health to be specially cognizant of (and self-control to develop), but still. Life is short, eh? Let’s just go ahead and make peace with the fact that sometimes one cookie (or two, or three) is just not enough. Carpe diem! and all that.

That’s all for now. Stay sweet while I plan my bakery business and try to develop the willpower not to make a weekend trip here.

Honestly, how am I not 5,000 pounds by now?

PS – For males of the future (or, more realistically, the 13 cats I’ll  be living with)…a bit of sugar, and I’m a goner.

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