I knew it would hurt me eventually. I was sure it would catch up with me.
I was told by everyone that I had a problem. I knew I did, but I justified it as my last vice.
Everyone needs one, right?
Im walking home... or strolling... its a lovely day in New York City and I am in somewhat of a fog. I meander in and out of stores for about 3 blocks and feel a blister developing in my pink plaid vans. This blister is on my left foot. I dont know what is causing it, but I decide to leave it alone for the mile or so it would take me to get home.
I climb the 5 flights of stairs to my Manhattan Palace (aka a 2 bedroom apt). I throw myself across my bed.
"Whoa is me," I utter as contort myself into an odd yogi position in order to remove my shoes. I take off the one covering the blister distressed little piggy toe.
Do you know what caused it?
To my distress.... A packet of splenda fell out.
IT finally happened. My Splenda problem hurt me.