Bagels on Friday!

Dear Friday Bagels,

I know you don't mean any harm. You're brought in by a fabulous office manager, all warm and tastefully arranged on a plastic platter in the kitchen. Egg bagels, pumpernickel, whole grain, poppy seed ... and the ultimate: everything bagel.

You are round and soft, anchored on either side by cream cheese and butter. You call to me as I sit at my desk:

"Kerri ... hey! Come over and maybe have a half?"

But Friday Bagels, you are not my friend.

Over the years, you and your bagel counterparts have gone from a more diminutive 40 grams of carbohydrate apiece to a whopping 80 plus grams. When I was a kid, my mom used to make mini pizzas on the smaller bagels.

Now, a bagel pizza is about the same carb count as a "real" pizza. And if I partake in Friday Bagely goodness, I'm dancing in the danger zone of high blood sugar.

Ugh. No thank you.

Friday Bagels, I've ignored you for weeks now. I get my coffee and walk past you, trying not to make eye contact with the lot of you. I stir some organic sweetener into my coffee while I think about your carby goodness, and then I basically have to run back to my desk to get you out of my mind. And by 10:30 am, when all but one stale 1/4 of a bagel remains, I can finally breath easy again.

Until the next Friday.

Friday Bagels, I am petitioning to have you replaced with a fruit platter. Or maybe just kept under lock and key until I find my will power each day.

Best,

Kerri.