Kid Vitamins Are Delicious (and other reasons I'm still fat)

When I give my kids their vitamins each day, I eat one too. I think of them as more of a treat than a nutritional supplement. I like the purple ones.

 Sometimes I'll have another one later in the day. I really want to eat the whole bottle, but I'm held back by fears of vitamin poisoning. I guess they have built in portion control that way, unlike Sweetarts or Smarties. 

You know what else is delicious? Those chewy chocolate calcium supplements. 

I really need to be more of a food snob. That's my problem. (Well, one of my problems.) Yeah, I like fine food--I like it a lot--but I also like hot dogs and Cheetos and the fried cheese at Arby's. I am a regular halfway house for food--I welcome all the foods that aren't acceptable in polite society. 

Develop more discriminating tastes. That's what I have to do. 'Cause I just can't go on like this--eating anything that comes along. I almost never eat food out of the trash anymore, though. And I hesitate before eating old pretzels from my preschooler's car seat. I think that's a good sign. 

Filthy, disgusting habit

No! I'm not talking about smoking! What would make you say that? But why we're on the subject, if you smoke, you should probably stop. It's kind of bad for you and it stinks and stuff. But you know that already.
What I'm really here to discuss is my perverse and wrong-headed love of junk food. It's not that I don't enjoy unjunky (yes, it's a word) food. I can think of dozens of healthy and delicious foods I enjoy eating, but there are times when I'd gladly toss aside an entire plate of luscious fruits and vegetables in exchange for a lint-covered, toddler-handled Skittle from the depths of the couch. And in theory, chewed-up and reformed potatoes are totally icky, but I'll eat salt and vinegar Pringles until my taste buds are raw and the "chips" have clumped into an indigestible mass in my stomach.
What's the solution? I don't know. I'm usually smart enough not to keep my favorite crack-laced snacks around the house, but that doesn't seem to stop me from jumping into the minivan and going to the store in a fit of defiance. "I'll show you, self! You can't tell me what to eat! You're not the boss of me! " My inner teenager needs to shut up and go back to the 80's where she belongs.