Help me Lord

Lead me not into temptation, I can find it well enough on my own. I thought that was some great little kernel of wisdom that my grandmother passed down from her mother and so on. Turns out she picked it up at Weight Watchers.
The reason I quote this phrase as often as I do, is because I work in an office where everyone is trying to hawk off baked goods that would also ruin their diet. Every time some good neighbor drops off a cake or pie, it usually ends up in our break room. Today, it wasn't some cake or pie made with love or at least good intentions. It was a box of Hostess SnowBalls left over from Easter. There is nothing more gross and disgusting than Snowballs. They are hard chocolate cake with gelatinous filling coated in marshmallow cream and rolled in coconut. They come in these completely unnatural colors to go along with the seasons, pastel purple or teal, or worse at St. Patrick's Day-Glo Green. They have the shelf life of Spam. No one likes these cupcakes. They are the reject of the cupcake world. They sit of shelves for weeks next to the Dunkin Sticks and Low Fat? Brownies.
And I adore them.
I LOVE Snowballs, and I don't know why. I make a point to not eat Hostess Cupcakes. Spending most of my childhood at the alter of Swiss Cake Rolls, store bought pastries of any kind are forbidden in my household, and are resisted at all costs when I go to the store. I avoid them at gas stations, searching the aisles for trail mix, Baked Lays or Sun Chips. But the Snowballs. I cannot help myself.
So I took a Snowball from the free box on the counter, making sure no one saw me actually touch one, and I scurried back to my office. I stuck it in my drawer and said to myself, "I might not even really eat it. I can just throw it away at the end of the day." But no, within minutes I opened the desk drawer. I saw the purple culinary concoction, and closed the drawer again, "No, I'll at least wait until my 3 p.m. snack."
Shaking from the anticipation, I ripped off the cellophane at 2:59 p.m. (close enough).
Am I satisfied now that I filled my belly with fatty, calorie filled artificial substance. Yeah, a little bit. I'm ashamed, but mostly I want more. I'm going to go see if the box is still on the counter.