Sweet Addictions

August 29, 2011

in How to Diet in Reverse

My name is Meg, and I’m a recovering sugar addict.

I’ve been on and off the wagon too many times to count over the last few decades.  I can’t count the number of times I kicked off Lent with a vow of sugary abstinence, only to fall prey to the charisma of a creamy milk chocolate oozing silken caramel underneath its praline exterior.

It wasn’t my fault.  Really.  It was Valentine’s Day!  I mean – who starts Lent 3 DAYS BEFORE VALENTINE’S DAY??

Reese’s cups.  Hershey Bars.  Snickers Mini-Bites.  Nerds.  Pixie Sticks.  The brown sugar lumps at the bottom of the bag.  I don’t discriminate.  Sugar is sugar.

Unless its not.  Don’t give me that Splenda junk.  If I’m going to have a sugarey treat, there had better actually be sugar in it.  From an actual sugar cane.  

I can vividly remember one particular incident in middle school, when my addiction may have gotten…well, a tad out of hand.  I was thirteen, and had a metabolism matched only by my attitude.

I still have the attitude, but, Oh, how I miss that metabolism….

It was just after Halloween, which meant our house was Stocked with candy.  Not only did we have our own personal caches carefully hidden in the darkest corners of the pantry, so as to evade my father’s notice during his pre-dinner-snack-scouting sprees, but we also had an entire grocery bag of left overs from the day-after-Halloween candy sales.  And not one of those dinky plastic bags.  The old-school brown bags.  The kind you’d have to wrap both arms around to carry into the house, praying the bottom didn’t give out before you got in the kitchen because it was so incredibly, nauseatingly full of candy that you got a sugar high just inhaling as you puffed your way up the stairs.

It was like putting a dog in a room full of chair legs and telling him not to chew.

Or for you younger kids, putting a teen in a Bath&Body and telling him not to huff the bath salts.
What is UP with that, BTW??  Did they just not get enough bubble baths as kids?

So it should have come as no surprise to my parents when they happened across my stash of empty candy wrappers ingeniously stuffed between my mattress.  What may have come as a surprise was when, as punishment, they endeavored to make me eat my entire Halloween candy stash in just one night.

By the end of the first hour, I wanted to puke.

By the end of the second hour, I was begging to puke.

And by the end of the next week?  I was jonesing for more.

Which brings me to today.

Sitting in the front seat of my car, with the Little Man strapped securely in his car seat behind me.  I’m sunk low in the seat so he can see just enough of me to know that I haven’t left the car without him.  And the radio turned up to our favorite song.  Just loud enough so that he can’t hear the slight crinkling of wrapper as I quickly open the KitKat I snuck in at the end of our Walmart purchases.  The one the cashier, with a knowing look, slipped directly into my purse while distracting the Little Man with a smile.  The one that, if eaten quickly and quietly enough, I just might not have to share…


Megan (Best of Fates) August 30, 2011 at 8:50 am

Hahaha – that sounds like a hilarious addiction. If only because I can picture you, sneaking candy in the front seat!

NSC August 29, 2011 at 5:21 pm

Ahhhhh sweet sugary goodness. Props to you , Meg. I still can’t admit I have a problem. 😉

Domesticated Gal August 29, 2011 at 6:12 pm

To be fair, it is a tad hard to deny the problem when you’re inhaling the chocolate so fast it might as well have been a milkshake! mmm…chocolate…

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