Confessions of an Addict

It's my parents' fault, really.

For as long as I can remember, they have indulged my craving. I think they are addicted themselves, really; it was not uncommon for me, as a child, to see them running out of the house on a Friday evening because they simply could not make it through the night without "them". Rather common, really, for me to see my mother sitting on the couch with this precious item and my father quickly finishing off one of his own.

And it was not just in the privacy of our own home that they enjoyed it; no, they would indulge in their craving at social gatherings and even set them out on our coffee table for our company to enjoy. (They did, of course, have their own private stash.)

So, I feel that it is unfair for me to have to claim full responsibility for this addiction. I blame genetics.

But maybe, just maybe, I must take some responsibility for this addiction. It's the flavour, the texture, the thrill of excitement I get from "cheating" my own health by indulging my urge. Maybe I am simply a glutton who is severely lacking in self-control.

There are many contributing factors, I'm sure, but when you strip them all away it boils down to one simple truth: I am a chip addict.

Yes, you read correctly. Chips. That crunchy, salty, delicious snack created by junk food corporations everywhere to not only clog our arteries but to keep us coming back for more.

So unhealthy and yet so irresistible.

My chip addiction has intensified over the years to the point where I cannot make it through a weekend without having a bag. My reliance on this snack was proven two weeks ago when I announced to my stunned family that I was giving up chips. They were too fattening, I declared, and if I was going to compete in track and field this year, I needed to start getting in shape.

I made it four days before I was begging my dad to go out and buy me a bag.

This addiction would not concern me, really, except for the fact that there is a voice in the back of my head that refuses to quiet down. This voice reminds me with every bite that, although I have not yet seen the effects of my chip addiction, they will rear their ugly head in the future.

This voice informs me that chips cost over three dollars and that their price is continually increasing. It also reminds me that, while my parents may pay for the chips now, next year I will be on my own at university so, if I don't get myself under control, my wallet will soon be feeling considerably lighter.

And, as I write this, that very same nagging voice reminds me that my arteries are clogging and I can probably look forward to heart disease and high blood pressure. That, or wake up one day and find myself to be the fattest person alive.

But, despite all of these horrible consequences, I find my mind turning to the bag of sour cream and onion chips that I know is waiting for me in my pantry cupboard. Because whatever the cause and no matter what they will do to me, the fact still remains: my name is Bella, and I am a chip addict.