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I have little will power when it comes to food, so I purposely keep certain foods out of my kitchen in order to help me from eating them. Our annual camping trip, however, is like a time-out from the ban on these forbidden fruits (aka processed snacks).

So when my son wanted to buy a vat of cheese balls to take on vacation, I considered a moment before answering him. Would I be able to keep myself from eating them?

Yes, I finally said. He could get them because Yes, I could stop myself from eating them. After all, they’re a toxic orange. My rational, adult mind should be able to stop my emotion-driven decision to eat this unhealthy snack.

Well, John Calvin, free will 0 predestination 1. Half the tub is gone and the kids touched them once. My husband, if he weren’t so politically savvy, would have predicted this outcome.

So now I’m sitting in my kitchen, home safely from vacation, and that half tub of cheese balls is staring at me. As I eat my little toasts with natural peanut butter and have my half glass of skim milk, the cheese balls begin whispering to me.

Whose side are they on? Do they want to be eaten? Do they want me to be fat? Unhealthy? Depressed because I have no self control? Or are they just a gateway snack to first unethical and then just plain evil choices?

I’m certain they’re on the Dark Side, despite their bright orange appearance. So I ask for strength from Harry Potter and make the decision to dump the cheese balls on the compost heap. And cover them with rotten vegetation to keep me from digging them back out. A girl can’t be too careful when dealing with Deatheater cheese balls.

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