My kids like donuts. My husband likes donuts. Heck, I like donuts. They just don’t like me…well to be more specific, they don’t like my hips.  Having said this you would probably suspect that I run screaming and yelling into the night when someone in my family suggests donuts. You are about to be surprised.

 

The nearest Dunkin Donuts to my house is a Dunkin Donuts “Lite.” It is located inside the closest gas station to my home. As a person who has turned driving on fumes into an art form, the location of this gas station is of major strategic import. I use the term “lite” to distinguish this Dunkin Donuts from another one further down the road, which boasts a drive through and baking on the premises. This second one is also strategically placed as it sits just enough drive distance from the Richmond Olympiad gym for a hungry 10 year old to gobble down a plain bagel with strawberry cream cheese before hitting the floor for four hours of flipping, multiple times a week. Said gymnast’s Mom can grab a very large coffee before watching all of this flipping four hours at a clip, multiple times a week.

 

Back to the donuts. For years to the familiar chimes of “I didn’t have time to eat this morning” and “let’s get donuts” I have battled the donut demon. Traveling on the aforementioned fumes, with at least one and sometimes two sets of brown eyes pleading with me through the rear view mirror, I’ve been implored to stop for gas and donuts.  Sometimes, my resolve intact, I have braved a possible personal gas crisis and floored it, pupils fixed and dilated, as we passed the familiar orange and fushia sign. Other times though, in either a fit of motherly love or an inability to deal with the whining, I mean chimes, I would be compelled to stop. After pumping gas, I would enter the gas station, firmly willing my inner-donut-loving-self with a wishful mantra - just a coffee for me please, just a coffee for me please, just a coffee for me please. As I stood in line with my two daughters debating which variety to choose, I would gaze longingly and lovingly at the cases filled with bagels, muffins, donuts and the worst of all waistline enemies, the glazed apple fritter. Unfortunately, I would, on very rare occasions succumb to these temptations and order some…ahem, for the office, of course.

While I’m confessing here, I’ll also tell you that I’ve actually consumed (on very rare occasions, no – very, very rare occasions) these ‘office’ donuts before actually reaching the office, forcing me to circle the dumpster in the alley behind the building heaving white bags in an attempt to dispose of all evidence prior to entering the building. (Tip: Avoid the powdered varieties when attempting this maneuver in your own town.) 

 

Back to the donuts. I’ve been saved from a life of lying, sneaking, roadside rescues and a possible stint on America’s Biggest Loser. Dunkin Donuts has added these flatbread sandwich thingies. There is one called an Egg White Veggie Flatbread. The ingredients are pretty self explanatory – egg whites, flatbread, some veggies and some cheese for good measure. They also have a version with turkey sausage, but I haven’t tried that one yet, preferring to err on the side of extra vegetables rather than protein. (However, once I start body building again, I might switch to the turkey sausage. I’m told protein is essential for muscle mass.) According to the web site, this concoction has 290 calories and 9 grams of fat compared to a glazed fritter which has 400 calories and 15 grams of fat. But here’s the big payoff, it tastes good, it’s filling and it’s satisfying, meaning you don’t wish you’d had the chocolate iced Bismarck after eating it.

 

Congratulations Dunkin Donuts, this is a remarkable product as my hero Seth Godin would say. I, like America, can run on Dunkin and feel good about it! I thank you and my kids thank you! But why aren’t you telling people about this? How many other people out there eschew your wonderful coffee, afraid that they too, might fall victim to their inner donut demon? Your marketing works for the traditional donut-loving crowd, but you missed me. Had I known of these things, how many more times would I have visited? How many people would I have shared this hopefully funny anecdote with? How many more sales would have been rung up on your collective cash registers? It’s time for you to launch a campaign, entitled Guilt-Free Dunkin! Make millions and oh, by the way, my company can help you with that campaign!