I already hear it calling me. My husband's desk is behind mine, and my youngest son bought him a Snicker's bar earlier this week because he knew it was Dad's favorite. My husband is one of those people who can open up a candy bar, take a couple bites and then get lost in what he is doing and not finish it.
I'm all for that, but I don't understand that. It's a candy bar, for Pete's sake! It was designed to be eaten. It's sole reason for existence is to sweeten my tongue as it melts across it and then provide just a little texture for my teeth to crush. I can tell myself everything about high fructose corn syrup, inflammation from sugar acidity, calories that don't carry even phytonutrients let alone vitamins and minerals (Note: claiming the peanuts are protein in a Snicker's bar is admirable. It goes with my whole, "Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly, if not well" stance.) All of that, and yet I desire it like Eve wanted the apple. Get thee behind me, Satan...
It is the fact that it isn't mine and further that it was a love gift from my son to a father he so admires that I don't bother with it. And way deep down, I'm glad I finally have a compelling reason not to eat it.