My name is Maggie

and I am a carboholic...

I know I look innocent, but behind this facade of cute warm and fuzziness lies a dark, sneaky side.

You will note that, despite my darker nature, I know which end of the bag I'm supposed to hold.

The thing is, these people keep leaving stuff out for me.  Or they forget to put me in my room when they go out, and the stuff is right there.  It's not like I can help myself - I'm an ADDICT, people, I have no control.

I know I'm going to get into trouble, and Lord knows, it's not helping my middle-aged spread.

But I can't help it, truly.  If I could figure out what to do with the carnage, I'd be set.

Notice that the healthiest option, the brown rice cakes, are unscathed.

I do pride myself on being methodical and relatively neat.  And I'm not sure why they get mad at me when it happens, because, really, whose fault is it??

So, please, help me.  Understand my problem.  Love me in spite of it.  You know you want to.

This message brought to you by Carboholics Anonymous - eating our way through life one loaf at a time...