Sugar shake

We went to farm in countryside this morning to pick up bread order. Owner was in pizza kitchen dishing out chicken rice soup pints and quarts. We were behind young couple. The young woman was beautiful and a forest ranger in Wyoming. The young man was extremely impressed with himself and his lineage. How do I know this? Because the owner talked and talked and talked to them.

Day 4 of no sugar, of shaking my sugar habit on the suggestion of my friend Jody who suggested that we try it together. My fuse is non-existent.

If I’d been a bosomy 20-year-old, he’d have been all over us, but I’m neither of those things. So we waited. And waited. I kept moving closer and closer until he was forced to ask, in a tone of great exasperation (and we were at that point hearing about the young fellow’s extremely distinguished great-grandfather), what I wanted. How about to be waited on?

Would it have bothered me as much if I’d had a chocolate croissant with my morning coffee? Probably not. I’m afraid that sugar was/is not only my gateway drug, but also my mood-lifter, my anxiety relaxer.

Instead of feeling all the feels lately, I’ve been eating them. Two desserts daily (not small ones, of course), plus the occasional Tootsie Pop and ice cream cone. No wonder, I’ve settled into a full-blown withdrawal, maybe snakier than giving up my three daily packs of Marlboros in 1979.

For one thing, I was younger and more resilient then. For another, I just went to bed and stayed there for days, getting up only for more juice and to pee. Now, I have to wait for somebody who’d rather ignore me, to actually see me and ladle out my freakin’ soup. (I know it sounds like a narcissistic rant, but ask any woman over 65 how many times a man her age has let her struggle with her own door but then done a somersault to open that same door for the 20-year-old blonde in a sports bra and tights.)

Like any addict I move through the day pinning my hopes and anxieties on the next fix. In my case, it’s the next sweet. What? Rely on my life and the things I do for fulfillment rather than a buttery brownie, redolent with cinnamon and espresso? You must be kidding.

So I’m trying to do some more, like beginning Christmas and swimming laps (not in the same space) to maybe enjoy the living parts of my life. Relaxing on the front porch with a glass of wine, although maybe not at 8 in the mornings. I’ve slid into a terribly abyss of television and eating at night. Both need to be shimmied back, but today it’s sugar.

If I make it through Day 4, Day 5 has church and Sunday papers and maybe just breathing deeply now and then. Jody’s suggestion again: We’re having fruit salad and boring purchased cookies tomorrow when our VMI cadet comes for Sunday dinner. I know fruits have lots of sugar, but it’s unprocessed and offers fiber and antioxidants and vitamins and just leave me alone! At least until I’ve had the one glass of wine I’m allowing myself.


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