I am a bread whore

Dammit. Some people are addicted to crack. Others, need chocolate. And then there's the drunks. Lots of folks like the drinks.

Me? Bread. Give me yeasty bready goodness and I fall to my knees like a cheap 10 dollar hooker on an Oslo street corner. I cannot resist bread or any baked good. Shove a chocolate bar in my face, and I'll shrug and yawn. But a brownie? Or cake? Or fluffy bread? I'll bite your hand off in my eagerness to get it.

Today I had to run into Oslo for an errand, and there, on KarlJohansgate is the United Bakeries. It was right in my path. Right in the way. Right...there. I could not avoid it. It's pretty new. It's also very fucking dangerous.

I've written about my predilection for boller? Well, they had some that were Brobdingnagian in proportion to the ones I usually have. All fluffy and soft inside but with an egg white coating of shiny bready goodness just glistening and calling to me in the window. "Karla!", it sang out in a yeasty sweet whisper. "Eat me.....EAT ME....I'm your perfect bun!!!!"

How could I resist? HOW I ask you? HOW? (I only ate one....in the circumstances I thought that was rather good.)

I've been trying really hard not to eat white flour. But the vagaries of my hormonal cycles (this is Hungry week, which means next week is Fat and Bloated week) and that horrible, evil, beautiful, lust-inducing bakery are more than I can resist.

Now I am going for a walk. I figure if I walk about 10 miles I can work off half that bolle.