My name is Sarah and it's been one day since I had pita chips.

I think I understand drug addiction now.  I mean, I always knew that it could really take hold of a person and they couldn't do much about it, but I also wondered why they would go out of their way to do something that made them sick, or gave them face scabs, or horrible rotten teeth.  Nothing could be worth that, could it?

I might not be into meth or heroin but I do have a substance abuse problem.  It's pita chips.  I love them, and I can't stop myself from eating them if they are around.  I eat them until I'm literally sick and if there are still some around, I will eat them till they are gone.  I know you're thinking, "Oh, you're just trying to be funny by comparing your love of pita chips to a meth head's love of meth, and they don't compare, you idiot."  I beg to differ.

This week when I went grocery shopping I saw that pita chips were on sale.  I already had to buy some chips for a party I went to so I just threw the giant economy bag of pita chips in there too, telling myself that I would bring them to the party, and wouldn't eat them all myself.  See right there?  I lied to myself and made a lame justification for the procuring of the addictive substance.

As soon as I got home from the store I opened the bag.  How could I justify that?!  Well, a girl has to eat lunch, doesn't she?  Sure she does.  I carefully took out a small bowl's worth, telling myself again that having a normal serving was fine.  No big deal.... Then I had another serving.  Then Kira saw the bag, even though I hid it in the back of the pantry closet and she said, "Oh pita chips! Can I have some?" and I said, "No! They are for the party!" knowing full well that I wasn't going to bring them to the party.  After my second bowl of chips, I stopped using the bowl and just ate out of the bag so I wouldn't realize how many I was eating.

The thing about pita chips is that they literally make me sick to my stomach.  I can't digest them properly and I get cramps and horrid gas.  Gas that is so constant and disgusting that I can't really go out in public.  For several days it was like my family was on an olfactory tour of the sulfur pits at Yellowstone Park, or a boiled egg plant, or a perm factory; and we were all getting a little sick of it.  It was a rough afternoon, evening and night.  The next morning I wasn't feeling any better, but I couldn't stop myself from eating pita chips for breakfast.  I didn't want to.  I felt guilty and stupid and really bad about it, but I did it anyway, knowing that it would compound the already terrible stomach cramps.  About mid morning I noticed that the bag was almost gone and I was relieved.  They would be gone by the end of the day.  I felt doubly horrible all day and night and the next morning again.  Today I'm finally feeling on the mend.  The gas is almost gone, the cramps are better and I don't feel so listless and weak.

I decided to clean the house up a bit and when I was vacuuming the floor under the counter where I sit and eat my breakfast, I noticed a few pita chips that had been sitting there for at least 36 hours.  I had to physically stop myself and tell myself out loud, "Do NOT even think about eating those," but then I did.  I ate stale pita chips off the floor after being sick from them for days.  That's called rock bottom, folks.  I don't know what it is about pita chips unless they are laced with some kind of delicious opiate or something, but I have a problem.  I have recognized it and now I know I have to practice constant vigilance to keep myself on the straight and narrow.