I love eggnog. I can't resist it. And I can't tell when to stop. I start with a half cup and tell myself I won't take any more. Then another half cup seems perfectly okay. And forty minutes later I've had a quart, the bottle is empty, and I still don't feel like I've reached my limit.
I like the premium high-fat kind from the Whole Foods market. I like the cheap kind from the grocery. I like the kind my friends make from organic eggs, heavy cream, fresh ground spices and nutmeg, tupelo honey, and rich brown rum. I like the kind my ex-wife made from a sixty-year old imprint of The Joy of Cooking.
It's a relief for my arteries when they stop selling it at New Years Day.
I find myself sneaking out to the store half an hour after midnight when the family is asleep to buy just a little more.
The first step is to recognize that I have a problem. It's not right, it's bad for me, it has no redeeming qualities. It might as well be a thick, smooth, creamy, sweet, rich glass of tobacco. But I can't say yet that I truly want to change.