“My name is ELC. And I’m a sugarholic.”
Guess I’ve known
this for about 49 of my 59 years. I’m not proud of this addiction. I’m grateful
not to have some other addictions. Truly. But this is not a good one. Every morning
I get up and tell myself I’m going to minimize my sugar intake. (Trying none at all really is my only hope. Haven't succeeded in that endeavor very often.) Five out of
seven nights a week I go to bed mad at my weakness.
I got home from two days at TLC’s casa around noon yesterday. Unloaded my car and then had
to run to town to pick up two flats of pansies (One of my most favourite
bedding/potting plants because My Sweet Nana adored them.) I’d bought from
a friend’s daughter. A fundraiser for her school. I also needed to run
into a drug store to return/exchange a broken mascara (The wand was, as I told
the cute little Assistant Manager fella, “wonky” and didn’t work right. Y'all know I can't have this problem. TLC and I spend way too much time and effort finding the best mascaras made for the best prices. Not working properly is not an option for moi.).
After
taking care of both of these errands, I should have headed straight home.
Instead, I decided I needed a large VCZ (Vanilla Coke Zero). From Sonic.
Would you believe My Sweet Hubby’s truck veered, instead, into a McDonald's? Why? I don’t
know. (Let me admit this: I also have a sort-of-controllable junk food addiction.
More controllable than my sugar addiction. I’ve always liked McDonald’s. Yes, occasionally, I’ll stay away. For a few weeks or even a few months. Worried the news’ reports about their meat, etc., might be accurate. But Big Macs? Yes, please. Grilled Onion Cheeseburgers? Absolutely.
I can’t make myself apologize for this.)
While waiting in the Drive-Thru line, I noticed a new McFlurry flavor. Well, new to me. Pralines and Cream. Wwwhhhhaaaaatttttt? Pralines and Cream? Since I’d had a chicken sandwich on the way
home with NO FRIES or TOTS, I made the decision I could have six bites
of what sounded like a heavenly treat. (The pretty picture ad by the order-speaker said a snack-sized
Pralines and Cream had 500 calories. 500. Calories. Sheesh.)
I did it. Also ordered a large Diet Coke. Clearly, I had no
shame.
The first bite I took—as I drove away from the window—was amazing. I’m not exaggerating when I say it was one of the yummiest
bites of an ice cream concoction I’ve had in a very, very, VERY long time. Especially one that didn't have any chocolate in it.
I decided I could eat a third of it. Then it became half. Did I manage half? Ha. Right. And then we all woke up. I practically licked the cup
clean. Shut All the Doors!!! It was totally beyond exquisite.
{When TLC reads this, she’ll be a tidbit shocked
and majorly disappointed in me. I’d lost ten pounds (that I’d gained back from
my original 20-pound loss two years ago) recently. However, I’ve been back up
five for three-ish weeks. She’s had to listen to my constant whining and
complaining about my lifetime of dieting. She’ll be a little hurt, on my
behalf, for my lack of self-discipline. We both can be a little too judge-y of
each other. After her initial reactions, she’ll remember she went to her
favourite local ice cream shop yesterday afternoon and had a cup of Heath custard. Okay, yes, she's lost more than her baby weight gain, at this point. She weighs what she did in her early high school years. I'm hugely proud of her. Possibly a little jealous. But I
think she’ll understand.}
Today I’m doing my best to recover from my unfortunate slip in strength and good sense. So far, so good. True. It's barely past noon here in North Central Texas. I can only hope and pray this confession will be good for my soul. And scales. That tonight I get in bed not angry at myself, but proud.
Y’all have a Sweet Saturday—full of happiness, joy, fun, laughter
and, what the heck, maybe even a few sprinkles of sugar—Wherever in the World
you are…
