Hello. My name is Angela and I am powerless over...

I hide my addiction and
powerlessness well.
I know. I am living a lie,
but what can I do about it?

by Angela K. Durden

I am ashamed to admit it, but chasing after my next hit of cheese has been the main theme of my life. I once drove from the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Georgia to the state's capital city to buy ten pounds of the most pure sharp cheddar you can imagine. My eyes still glaze over when I think of those highs.

Anyway, I had to pay for the gas I just pumped. What was I going to do? I watched as, one after another, people exited the convenience store.

Finally, I said, "Hey, buddy. Pssst...over here."

He leered at me. I said, "So...ummm...I've got something mighty powerful you might like...[I gestured nonchalantly]...in the back seat." I lifted my eyebrows and slowly sucked air between my teeth on the inhale.

He smiled bigger and drawled, "Oh, yeah, suhweet baybee? And just what might that be, littul laydee?"

"Oh, honey," says I, "you are gonna like this." I opened the back door, picked up a corner of a blanket covering a cooler. Lifted the lid so he could get a peek. His semi-sexy leer dropped away and he licked his lips.

Can I pick a fellow addict out of a crowd, or what? I sold two pounds of it to him for just enough to fill my tank. He was desperate and I got a price above market.

Once [tee-hee-hee] I sneaked three cubes of cheese into a music concert at The Tabernacle in downtown Atlanta. It was missed in a cursory search. Security may have been a bit lax because the band was not a former or upcoming Grammy winner though at the time hopes were high. Still, they were good. Who was the band? Let me think...

Well, you know what they say? If you remember it, you weren't there.

And then there was this other time [hahahahahahahaha] I got some primo product past a TSA agent coming out of the BVA. Ah, yes...good times. But, that's what we addicts do, right? Take chances because that just increases the high.

However, all that is nothing compared to what I did regularly at home.
I peddled cheese to my children.
Yes! I did. And was not ashamed of it.

I sneaked sheets of flat cheese into their sandwiches, and poured a semi-solid version of it over hot macaroni. I sprinkled a dried form of it over their spaghetti, and shredded hard blocks of it, piling two pounds high atop pizza, then melting it, for Gods sake, so that it would string out and we could make a game of it.

But wait. It gets worse.

To entice the children and my husband further into my addiction, once I cut the cheese into little cubes and placed each atop a Ritz cracker covered in liquid yellow mustard. One huge full platter of it I placed in front of them. To keep them from questioning what Mother was doing, distraction came in the form of a movie on the new TV I won in a grocery store giveaway.

The color on that set was Un. Be. Leev. Abul. As God is my witness, my husband, daughter, and children had no idea I took them for a trip around the bay. No worries. We got back the same day.

But, what kind of a mother does that? 

Tell me. Still, the question is: I know I am addicted to cheese, but why? That answer is now here thanks to researchers at the University of Michigan.

Let me publicly thank U of M for revealing that cheese contains a chemical found in addictive drugs. It is called casein and is found in all dairy products, though mostly cheese is the worst as it is so highly concentrated. Pound for pound, cheese has ten times more of the offending chemical than milk.

"It can trigger the brain’s opioid receptors, producing a feeling of euphoria linked to those of hard drug addiction," reports the Standard.com.uk.

They say the first step is admitting. Well...here goes.

"Hello. My name is Angela and I am powerless over cheese."

As of today, my drugs of choice, fully stocked in the fridge. 

There. I've admitted it publicly. Step One is done. Now you and the whole world knows why my life has always been so unmanageable.

But Step Two is problematic. If you can tell me what is more powerful than cheese, I sure would appreciate it because supposedly that will be the only thing to restore me to sanity.

Citizen Journalist.  Novelist. Author of other stuff. 

Business writer.  Songwriter.  Protecting creator's copyrights.