Sugar

I put on my favorite jeans today. I anticipated the tingle of seasons changing as I pulled them up over my knees. My calves and ankles no longer exposed, instead enveloped in familiar comfort, then, snapping the snap and allowing myself the pleasure of anticipating fall as summer creeps to an end. ... But today, they were tight. I should explain, these are not just any jeans, these are the jeans that always fit, my go to when feeling insecure. They have been washed a bazillion times and always stretch into the molded form I expect. I chose these jeans specifically because they keep secrets, and I expected would forgive every indecent snack that has defined my summer. That was the plan anyway. Betrayed! I was immediately flooded with reality, no more my reverie and romantic notioning away summer...I am welcoming fall with tight jeans. I folded my head in my hands and knew it was finally time to confront my nemesis. Sugar.
I embarked on the Prism program (essentially life change, not diet...oh if only, in which you give up all processed foods, especially white flour and sugar in lieu of God-made beautiful food in its most minimally altered state) two and a half years ago. I had great success, and have mostly stayed away from sugar since, tho the other bad boy (white flour) has crept his way back in. Going off of sugar was the most violent withdrawal process I have ever lived through (*dramatics intended). It was six weeks long and frought with headaches, irritability for me and those around me, poor sleep, anxiety, shaking, you name it, miserable. So, why, why, why you ask would sugar EVER come back into my life?? Excellent question. I pose it to myself. My answer sounds pathetic even to me...I love it. Now don't get me wrong, I am more of a salt-tooth than sugar-tooth anyway...giving up potatoes in any form is just darn near impossible. So it takes a while for the more natural allure of sugar to tempt me, two years in fact. Oh, I have dabbled over time, and I have paid with serious migraine headaches, powerful enough to remind me why it just isn't worth it to have had that piece of cake. But this past July, I threw caution and good sense to the wind and had me some cake, some cheesecake, all those brownies and cookies, lemonade, fudge, fudge, fudge, waffles, french toast, biscotti...I caught up. I tasted what I'd been missing. I would announce, "oh, I'm on sugar!" and dive headlong into the frosting (embarrassingly some of you may know to which frosting I refer).

The fun is over sugar.

I have to call the game. I need my jeans back. My apologies in advance, the next six weeks may be rough. I write this with complete resolve and all I can think about is a gooey, caramel laden chocolate cake, three decadent layers unable to hide the buttercream sandwiched within...a triangle of chocolate torte placed on a pool of sweet cream with bittersweet chocolate shavings artfully surrounding raspberries that line the plate....one perfect square inch of rich, really rich milk chocolate fudge, a generous slice of cheesecake surrounded by voluptuous strawberries dipped in chocolate...and my all-time favorite, peanut butter cheesecake in a crushed nutter-butter crust topped with peanuts, served with vanilla bean ice cream. Heaven will have to wait. The battle is on.