My drug

I ate a pie Sunday.  Not a slice.  Not two slices. I ate a pie.  Today I ate a bag of candy.  It was small and washed down by 15 cookies and a bag of popcorn. 
 
I'm addicted to food.  Sweets.  And I'm out of control. 
I was always on the brink.  I used to joke that I would be underweight if it wasn't for desserts.  But now, I can't seem to stop.  Let's see.  Yesterday I ate two large taffy apples.  I washed those down with the bag of candy I also had today.  There's no end in site, it seems.
I know what I'm doing.  Death by pie, candy, chocoloate.  Slow delicicous death, but death none the less.  I know there are easier ways to go, and this is crazy, and I don't want to get fatter.  I know all these things, but right now I want another pie and I want that bag of candy locked in my car.  And I want to sit in big, loose clothes so I can eat them and not think about how tight my clothes are getting.
I can't believe I'm doing this.  I know the cost of obesity.  I've seen the victims back in clinical when I was a nursing student.  And yet, I can't seem to stop.  Food is my drug.
It's a drug just like alcohol, gambling addictions.  And yet, there's nothing out there for us sweetaholics.  Join weight watchers and they tell you about the delicious cake you can make.  Join Jenny Craig and they hand you the dessert menu.  Only thing is, I can't stop with just one dessert, anymore than an alcoholic or drug addict can stop with just one small sample.
So here I am, born-again Christian, ex-nursing student, doing something incredibly stupid--killing myself with dessert.
I've got to stop.  Must stop.  And I don't know how.  This is crazy.