Way Off the Wagon

The jury's in: sugar is my kryptonite.

Going dry is not a problem. Going without the savory goodness of potato chips is not my weakness.

It's sugar. Something that I don't tend to crave, but if placed before me, I crumble.

DW's to blame: she baked brownies; she allowed cake in the house. And yet, I resisted.

She stopped in Costco, eyeing the cinnamon buns, and I said a loud and resounding "No!"

At the same Costco visit, she picked up a bag of Chicago Mix—a combination of both caramel and cheesy popcorn, and I wavered. "You eat the caramel, and I'll have the cheese popcorn."

"No way," she said. "You pour a bowl, and you eat what you get."

For days, I resisted. I don't really care for the caramel popcorn, even when I'm avoiding sugar, which I've been doing for the past two weeks, when we returned from Mexico. I had consumed a lot of sugary cocktails and I had wanted to take a break from processed sugar, for at least until the end of the month, or hopefully until my birthday.

My parents had come to our house with a cake and I resisted. DW baked a batch of brownies, and I resisted. She bought Cadbury Easter Cream Eggs, and I was strong.

But the Chicago mix was my weakness.

I shook the bag, hoping that the heavier caramel would sink to the bottom. When I poured the bag into a bowl, the cheesy popcorn fell from the bag, and I was relieved. But then the caramel kernels escaped. I stopped pouring but it was too late.

As is my habit, I ate all of the caramel pieces before devouring my desired cheesy bits.

I had no regrets.

The next day, DW opened the bag of Easter Cream Eggs. I had one. My fast was over.

That afternoon, at a stop to Farm Boy, to pick up a red pepper for the evening's dinner, DW nabbed a box of iced brownie squares (she had devoured the ones that she had baked, and wanted something for when my parents were coming over for a night of The Crown).

I ate one and a half of them.

I went two weeks without eating sugar. I had seemingly lost the fat that I had gained while in Mexico.

I don't want a cake for my birthday. That's my punishment.

Ugh.

Tell me to stop drinking, and I can do it without batting an eye. Ask me to forego potato chips for a month, and it's no problem, though I will miss them.

Ask me to go without a sugary treat? Apparently, that's where the cookie crumbles.