Monday, 14 September 2015

Sugar, why do you look at me like that?

With buns like this, I was bound to say 'yes!'

Woke up with the biggest blob of food guilt on my shoulders. Spent much of the weekend eating and drinking, and that sugar hangover at four this morning was a killer. Fat. Stodgy. Needy. Shaky. That's how it made me feel. I was tossing and turning, trying to get back to sleep, but all that was running through my mind was my relationship with food.

Relationships should really be a partnership, shouldn't they? But Sugar manipulates me. He's bad for my soul, heart, waistline, pocket... basically everything. Yet I can't stay away from him! I know he tastes nice, and do you know what? I'm pretty sure he wants me to become dependent on him. I'm not even that dependent on my husband!

Help. How am I ever supposed to move on from Sugar and what he can offer?

Don't tell me to go cold turkey. That scares me, sends me ratty and ready to burst. And fruit as a natural sweet substitute? Nope! I'm not overly keen on that, thanks, having never been a fruity person. Do I have the willpower to have a little of what I fancy every now and then? Unlikely. My ability to moderate is crap.

But who should I blame? Now I want to say it was Sugar's fault this time. He looked at me with desperate eyes, and I knew I just had to eat what he was hiding in. But, alas, Sugar was not to blame. I was weak. I always am when it comes to food.

Big sigh. So I may never learn to give Sugar the elbow, but he can take a walk for now. I'm off to bury my head in a book and drink a gallon of tea.