The last few days have been painful as I come down from the high from a steady diet of hot chocolate, marshmellows, Christmas cookies and candy that have made up the four basic food groups I've been adhering to since the end of November.
It hasn't been pretty.
Today Finn had a friend over after school and they wanted to have hot chocolate and marshmellows. I could feel the sticky, sugary goodness of those marshmellows when I reached into the bag to pass them out. I wanted to stuff a whole wad of them into my mouth when no one was looking, but I had to settle for just licking my fingers afterward. And the hot chocolate? I was lurking around their mugs as they were finishing their snack, hoping someone left some dregs in the bottom that I could slurp. Because homemade hot chocolate? Nestle Quik doesn't hold a candle to it, I'm telling you. How could it with 1/4 cup sugar to every two cups of milk? I can't even begin to count high enough to figure out how much sugar we have collectively consumed this holiday season. But then again math has never been my strong suit and I tend to underestimate when it comes to how much food I consume. Perhaps that has contributed to my snug ski pants recently?
I know I blogged before about how I follow an online exercise program. You get a free coach assigned to you and you report in on your food, log your exercise, and get feedback (curiously, no one ever tells me I should probably eat more). Let's just say I didn't do much reporting in over the holidays. I mean, how was my coach going to respond to posts like:
Breakfast: Two eggs, whole wheat toast, 1/2 grapefruit, mug of hot chocolate the size of a small swimming pool with whipped cream and marshmellows.
Snack: 2 dozen Christmas cookies, glass of milk.
Lunch: Lean Cuisine, carrot sticks, half a tin of toffee.
Snack: apple slathered in peanut butter, multiple pieces of Marie's candy
Dinner: Skipped it so I could eat an entire batch of popcorn followed by another 2 dozen Christmas cookies dunked in raw milk.
(And you may laugh, but this is actually so close to the truth, it's sad)
Exercise--walking back and forth to the refrigerator, wrestling with lids of cookie tins, trying to hold the Marie's candy out of the childrens' reach, putting stamps on Christmas cards, locking the door behind the kids when they went out to play in the snow so they couldn't rush back in and find me with my head submerged in the cake taker full of Christmas cookies.
So the fact that I am now on cold turkey withdrawl from refined white sugar is made painfully obvious by my shrewish attitude towards the world. I'm like Elaine in that Seinfeld episode when she tries to not eat the office birthday cake. I've got the DTs and need some serious intervention. If only I'd saved a little piece of cookie to help in my detox process. Yes, date pinwheels are like methadone for me. I need them. I NEED THEM! GET ME A COOKIE! PLEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAASE. If you loved me, you'd give me a cookie.
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3 comments:
I went through serious Milk Dud withdrawal after Christmas break. I could physically feel my body jones-ing for a milk dud. That's just sad.
This is so true:
THE MONTH AFTER CHRISTMAS DIET:
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T'was the month after Christmas, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I'd nibbled, the eggnog I'd taste
At the holiday parties had gone to my waist.
When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).
I'd remember the marvelous meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."
As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt --
I said to myself, as I only can
"You can't spend a winter disguised as a man!"
So -- away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished;
"Till all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won't have a cookie -- not even a lick.
I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore --
But isn't that what January is for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!
I hear you, sister. I'm giving myself this coming weekend @ Hocking Hills - then on the wagon I go (if there's a wagon big enough to hold me). I have been OUT OF CONTROL!
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