I Am Deeply Ashamed...

I have debated writing this post because, frankly, I'm afraid that you will think less of me. But I have  decided to be completely honest with everyone  and as I have deleted my Facebook account (because my husband is in law enforcement and some people kind of  really hate him, even though he is a very fair and kind person,  and I occasionally vomited rebuttal posts to said people and that's not a way to win votes) so I have no where else to write nonsense when I feel it bubbling up inside of me.
I am known for becoming extremely dramatic and horribly vengeful when I experience any kind of prolonged discomfort...particularly hunger. If I am in the depths of hunger, I often have a recurring "day terror".  
Just imagine that we (America) land of plenty (for some) have been taken over by some horrible country. (I currently have North Korea in that top spot, although the evil country changes with the times). What if..WHAT IF, our captors have rationed our food? Not just rationed...but marginally starved us?
As I sit and think about this scenario while my stomach is so weak with protest that it cannot utter another sound, I try to rationalize what I am planning.
I need the food. I need the food because I am the one who needs the strength to keep everyone's spirits up!  They are counting on me. Without my sunny outlook on life they would all wilt away whether or not they had food.
I imagine being interrogated for possible plots that are being planned to overthrow our new government. I am famished. It is winter (or summer, that part depends on my body temperature at the moment) my threadbare clothing is being pelted by icy sleet and the soldiers try to persuade me to crumble and spill my guts. I hold my head high and resist as they offer me a puffy down coat. No! I will freeze before I talk! Threats of torture by splinters of wood pushed underneath my fingernails? Oho! I have bitten them to the quick, so try your best! Then...they become diabolical. What about a steaming hot, white, fluffiness of goodness?
  I falter. What is this that you speak of?
 One steps forward, cradling in his hands..a potato. They split the skin of the Judas tuber and I watch the steam swirl up and mingle with the frigid air. I have never wanted starch so much in my life. I break.
I have betrayed my country for a baked potato.

                                                                               

                                                                 Judas Tuber


If they offered me butter and sour cream I would deeply consider turning in any friend/family member who was building up a rebel regime.
I have tried many times to change the outcome of this to no avail. All my friends and family have been duly warned of my treasonal  (I know it's not a word but it works here) tendencies. So far only my mother has verbally protested..I don't know if it is because she knows deep down that I have the ability to actually do it or if she is the only one who believes in my "day terror". Either way she has drew her lot of being the first one to be handed over.