Why I can't say 'no' to dessert

One of my daughters has inherited my unquenchable sweet tooth and even at age 5, I can see a little roundness in her belly that her twin sister, who we nicknamed Lily "The Body" at age 2, will probably never develop.

When I was younger, I had a variety of vices, which I won't go into in a public forum. Suffice to say, I was able to spread the cheer around in those days.

But now that I'm married with a serious career, the one vice I've got left does not mix well with middle age.

It's like alcoholics who tell themselves, 'I'm not an alcoholic, but you know what - I'm not even going to have a drink tonight." And then they end up hanging out with friends at the bar, and before you know it - bam! - they're sharing their saddest moment from grade school with the poor schlub on the next stool.

So it is with me every time I go out for a business lunch, or to the grocery store. I start out with the best of intentions - and end up sliding down into oblivion and whipped cream within 30 minutes.

Take today - I had a business lunch with a colleague from another firm and I started out like gangbusters - a lump crab meat cocktail for appetizer (lots of protein - no fat!), then followed it with a Caeser salad with grilled shrimp (OK, lots of fat in the Caeser dressing and shaved cheese, but still - I ate greens, wonderful!).

It's when the waiter came with the dessert menus that I completely broke down. I find I am physically unable to push a menu away and say "No thanks" as my svelte colleague did. So she demurely sipped a skim milk cappucino while I devoured an entire serving of creme brulee.

So when I find myself having to explain to Jessica why lollipops are not a good breakfast food, and why dessert is not a necessity, nor her God-given right after every meal, it would behoove me to remember that her thirst for the cane is genetic, and, like her mother, she may not ever be able to escape its syrupy grasp.