HAD always hoped you'd never have to hear this, but the newspapers have it now, so it's only a matter of time. I prefer that you get the story from me, so here goes: for the past three Christmas shopping seasons, I have been taking performance-enhancing drugs to give myself a competitive advantage at the mall.

I'd like to apologize first to those my actions hurt the most: my family, my friends, and the management and staff of the stores at the Garden State Plaza Mall in Paramus, N.J. But I also want to apologize to my fellow shoppers. You deserve a level playing field out there in the aisles, but when I can easily rip the last U2 iPod Special Edition from your hands and then toss you aside like used gift wrap - well, no one would call that a fair contest. To those that I have body-checked or pancaked on my way to a display rack of progressive-scan DVD players, I am truly sorry.

How did this happen? It was a week before Black Friday 2002, and I was talking to the guy at the Macy's information kiosk about wanting to take my Christmas shopping to the next level. He said I should meet him in the parking lot after closing, and when I did, he gave me a small brown bottle labeled "Santa's Little Helper." Mix in a teaspoonful with my eggnog every night, he told me, and before long I'd be the shopper rushing home with the most treasures.

Sure enough, a week later I could carry a stack of flat-screen TV's the quarter-mile to the registers without breaking a sweat. I could shop from one end of the mall to the other in six minutes flat, including a break for a Cinnabon. From that day on, I was hooked.

I realize most shoppers look at me and wonder: "He had everything - speed, stamina, an S.U.V. with a ton of cargo room. Why risk it all?" And I guess I'd say it was because I wasn't interested in just getting a great deal. I needed to get all the great deals. My natural, God-given shopping abilities could take me only so far. I had peaked and started to decline - and not only did I know it, but the people I was shopping for knew it, too. I could see it on their faces on Christmas morning, and I was willing to do whatever it took to bring back their satisfied smiles. By failing to deliver the Spider-Man Dual-Action Web Blasters they had every right to expect, I had forgotten the true meaning of Christmas.

Right now the last thing this season needs is another black eye. But the public should also know that I'm not the only one on the juice. I won't name names, but I would strongly suggest that department stores institute random drug tests, especially at the express checkout line.

For my part, I will accept my impending ban from the mall through 2007. Until then, I will be doing all my holiday shopping in a closely monitored online environment, where I can do no more harm to the season I love so much. That said, those of you still using dialup better upgrade now, or else you'll definitely be eating my high-speed D.S.L. Web dust during the post-holiday sales.

Kevin Doughten works for a New York publishing house.

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