O, Rice Krispy Treats, How Do I Love Thee?

WARNING: This entire post is probably going to be about food. And now it starts:

I fucking LOVE  Rice Krispy treats. I mean, LOVE  them. When I eat Rice Krispy treats, I feel like I am ingesting a piece of God that He sent down to Earth from Heaven specifically and especially for me. And as I consume this glorious cube of rice cereal and roasted marshmallow (and sometimes even chocolate), I feel as though God is personally blessing my digestive track for swallowing the beautiful, sacred gift He has given me.

But these 3-dimensional squares of happiness also suck in a big, horrible way.

For example, I will be venturing the cabinets for a snack (even though I have tried and failed multiple times to get rid of the inch of fat on my belly that JUST. WON'T. GO. AWAY.), and by a stroke of dumb and unfortunate luck, I will come across a Rice Krispy treat (or, God forbid, a whole box). But no matter how hard I try to resist it, what little shred of willpower I have left within me will shrivel up and die (at least, for the time being), and I will devour that treat. However, if there happened to be a whole box in that cabinet, I will probably indulge in another (or two more). AND.... If there happened to only be a few left, I will have an epic war within myself, debating whether or not I should even have one. Of course, I eat it anyway, and then I feel really guilty because a) I just deprived someone from a wonderful snack in the future, and b) I'm now farther away from my ideal goal of having a flat stomach. Now, let me explain something... I'm not fat. I'm not even chubby. But I have about an inch (maybe less) of pinchable fat on my stomach that I'm overly self-conscious about, and try to hide at all costs. Meaning I feel incredibly awkward when wearing form-fitting clothing in public, and I despise swimming with anyone who isn't a close girl friend.
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Shit.
I forgot what else I was gonna say about Rice Krispy Treats.
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You can go now.