Sugarland

I am addicted to sugar.  This should come as no surprise to anyone who has shared a meal or dessert with me over the past five decades.  I live for dessert.  My preference is for chocolate chip cookies, brownies (preferably with chocolate chips, no nuts), chocolate sundaes and See’s candy.  I would gladly inhale all of the aforementioned for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Some of my favorite treats

I think the time has come to face my addiction.  Years ago, (22 to be exact), I gave up alcohol.   I found it surprisingly easy.  Of course, I immediately increased my intake of sugar-based products and that devil in a can, Diet Coke.  My favorite treat:   a big fat chocolate chip cookie and an icy, cold Diet Coke.

Fifteen months ago, I gave up Diet Coke.  I did so because I noticed my then 12-year-old daughter matched me Diet Coke for Diet Coke and I knew I couldn’t ask her to stop if I didn’t.  Once I quit so did she without any prodding from me.

But let me tell you, giving up Diet Coke seemed impossible at the time.  It took a full seven months before I stopped craving the caramel-colored, saccharine sweet, carbonated, and delicious poison.  I actually would attend parties, hear the ice tumbling in a glass, and pine for a Diet Coke.  I drank water instead, which is terrible and boring.  In fact, I hate people who drink water at parties and I am now one of them.

But back to my true addiction:  sugar.  First of all, I wear it all over.  I’m carrying an extra 20 pounds because of it, especially around my belly.  This is not only ugly and unsightly, it’s dangerous.  All of this can increase the risk of serious health problems, including cardiovascular disease; stroke; Type 2 diabetes; breast cancer; and colorectal cancer.

Of course, the threat of  death has never prevented me from savoring the crunchy texture of a dark chocolate California Brittle plucked from the See’s candy case by one of those endearing grandmothers in their quaint white uniforms, who incidentally, know me by my first name.

I really do want to tackle this problem so I’ve come up with an almost fool-proof strategy:  the threat of total humiliation.  I figure if I start a regular blog, post it on Facebook, which is in itself  terrifying, if not  conspicuous considering the topic (me!), I have to succeed.  If I don’t, I will admit my failure publicly and be embarrassed for the rest of my life.

I encourage my old and new friends to read along and even consider joining me.  You all know I love group therapy, really any therapy that will save me from myself.  I will write about this off and on for about 30 days and at the end, if I am not completely mortified, I may continue…