Cupcakes, belly pooch, and pixie dust

"How do you know if you're addicted to sugar?" I asked, leaning over a bowl of strawberries the staff had served him for dessert. It was mealtime at the retreat center, and I was being nosy."Well," he started. "Does it make you happy or sad after you eat it?""Happy. Very happy," I spit out with no hesitation. I had been going on and on about my favorite cupcake joint in the whole world. I may have even stuffed a menu in my pocket and flapped it around at dinner.He assured me I was probably fine and I went back to talking about icing that "crunched to the touch."I don't know too many adults that love cupcakes as much as I. I claim myself as an original connoisseur, way back when they only came by the dozen at Jewel-Osco or out of my mother's oven. "We had cupcakes at our wedding before cupcakes were cool," I tell friends who got married after 2006 with an unattractive smugness.Now it's time to go public with my obsession. I'm starting a new, just for kicks feature on the blog called "Yes, Cupcakes" in which I feature pics of some local treats - and a few further afield. Five pounds later with a belly pooch to boot, you're welcome.I worry that loving cupcakes this much is inordinately girlie, like the squirrel pillow on my bed or the My Little Pony figurine on my dresser. Then I remember that there's no good reason a Christian feminist like me shouldn't be allowed her happy place. Even if it is filled with pixie dust posing as sugar.