So it’s Monday and a mere 72 hours after my 5-day fast. So….since I made a pledge to be honest, I’ll have to stick with it otherwise I’ll just be a poop-head in my own mind.
I started off the day coming out of a nightmare that jerked me awake around 6 a.m. this morning. I lay there for about 20 minutes before popping out of bed suddenly with the resolution of taking a nice walk. So I did, and I was happy. Feeling motivated coupled with a new-found freedom from work stress (I’m leaving for a new job soon), I decided to take my sweet time getting ready for work and prepare a 3-bean salad for lunch. I’m done eating the tired salads at the cafeteria. So I made it and packed it up in my new Tupperware. Lookie, I’m a motivated, fit gal!
All was good as I was sitting at my desk, sipping my herbal tea and checking my morning mail, when suddenly my sweet colleague came bearing a sinister gift: pound cake. Now, granted I’m a roughly 120 pound being with a mind and a will over matter, and this little fluffy piece of golden goodness is a mere 50 grams and doesn’t actually have a mouth to tell me to eat it, but somehow, in all of my might and muster, I took that piece of pound cake and well, pounded it down.
After eating the last crumb off my desk, I stared at my computer moniter feeling disappointed and defeated by something with butter for a brain. Why, why, whywhywhy do these foods have such a power over me? Why could I not have simply said, “no thanks, I’m off the sugar”?
The day continued, and since I had already ruined my track-record for the day, I went on to consume pound-cake’s manufactured cousins, Snickers and Milky Way (the bite size, I must add).
I then ate a cookie and at that point said “f*ck it, I’m just going to relax.” I went out to dinner and ate a salad but topped it with a hot chocolate with a generous dollop of whipped cream.
Now I’m sitting here feeling sugared out. I would like to take this opportunity to voice a complaint to Sir Legal Cocaine
In your raw sugar-cane form, I guess you’re not so bad. Actually, you have vitamins and minerals and are a natural product so you’re technically also a child of god.
However, my fellow human beings have processed you into some sort of sick-n-twisted franken-food and injected you into foods that look amazing, taste amazing, and slide through me like it aint no thang.
But I know your ways, and you screw with my mind and with my cells. You make me feel tired and depressed, and I’m going to do my best to blow your cover to the world.
Refined Sugar’s dirty laundry aired:
- You depress my immune system within 30 minutes of being consumed;
- You raise my insulin levels and inhibit my growth hormones;
- If I had asthsma, you would aggravate it.
- You cause mood swings, you even have the gall to provoke personality changes!
- You create mental illness & nourish nervous disorders;
- You create diabetis, excaserbate heart disease, & make gall stones;
- You worsen hypertension and arthritis;
- You may even cause cancer they are saying in the news now, and I for one believe it.
This is a modest list, as I think I’ve said enough.
I will wake up tomorrow and give you up. I mean it this time, and I know you. You’ll think it’s an empty threat just like all those other times, and you’ll obnoxiously parade around the office in costumes like brownies, coconut macaroons, caramel corn and whatever else you have in your gigantic wardrobe of delightful goodie garments.
But I say again: I mean it. You are on my sh*t list and I ban you from my mouth until I say so.
You’re old friend from pretty much the day I was off breast milk.
This is what I did to one of your cute little sugar-cubes, so back off..