I Am So Totally Screwed

You know, somedays the news is just so not worth reading.  People dying, crazy weather patterns, the economy tanking, and apparently now, evidence that I have just screwed the pooch – again.  According to some yahoos down under in the land of kangaroos, eating sugar pretty much guarantees you are going to be in trouble.  They’ve found that a “hit of sugar” changes the cellular memories for up to two weeks.  

This is bad news.  Very bad.  I mean, it’s like our bodies react to sugar like they do to street drugs.  Hell, since I love to bake and I do all the shopping, that means I’m like a drug cartel, mule, dealer and junkie all wrapped up in a Hershey bar loving addict.

Houston, we have a problem.

You can read this death knell to your dietary habits here, if you are so inclined.  Or you can just take my word for it and start shopping for your casket/urn now.  Now I ask you this, if sugar is so bad for you, then why does it taste so good?  Oh yeah, that is bad logic.  There’s some other tasty stuff out there that can kill you too.  But at least with an Almond Joy or a doughnut, I’ll be checking out happy.

There was a time in my life when I wasn’t such a sugar junkie and only periodically fell in with that pack of demons.  Actually, I think it was pretty much college.  I seem to remember several forays into the world of “you know, it’s mid-terms, so I think I’ll pick up a 2 pound bag of peanut M&Ms and a case of Coke to get me through it.”  It amazes me even now to think of how many minutes it took to polish off that stash.  

So, I did okay ignoring the monkey on my back until I decided it was time to buckle down and lose some weight and get myself all cute.  Jenny Craig may have helped me lose 20 pounds, but she turned me into a dessert-eating sugar whore.  Of course, this was before I had kids so now those 20 pounds are back and I’ve still stealing spoonfuls of the white stuff out of the sugar bowl when no one is looking.

And all this time I thought it was just helping along my developing muffin top, but now I find out I’m causing genetic damage.  

Oy.  I’ve already had my anti-depressant this morning and I’m on my third cup of coffee.  The only thing that’s going to take the edge of this funk is some hard-core sugar consumption.  If I could figure out how to main-line it without having to use a needle, I probably would.  But since I can’t, I guess there’s always the option of raiding the cupboards.  It is amazing what you can concoct with a box of powdered sugar, a jar of peanut butter, a tortilla, and some Hershey’s chocolate syrup.  

Ah, the funk is lifting.

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