Friday, February 12, 2016

Desire and the Dangerous Doughnuts

I ate a doughnut last week.  No, that isn't telling the whole truth.  I think I ate four or five of them.  Trent brought home a whole tray full of day-old doughnuts as a treat for the family.  There were so many that we  - I mean the kids - oh, and my dad - and Trent too - couldn't eat them all up in a day.  So he put the leftovers in the garage, where it was cooler than the kitchen and there were more places to put a big old tray full of doughnuts.  I am grateful that he didn't leave them on the kitchen counter, but in the garage wasn't much better.

You see, they were calling to me.  They know my name.  And they whisper and cajole and tempt and sing siren songs of sticky sweetness to me.  It is so hard to resist!

I am on a special diet because my body isn't functioning properly right now.  I CAN eat fruits and vegetables and whole grains and a little meat every now and then.  I can even eat a tiny bit of fat occasionally!  That's new and I'm happy about it because it means I'm ok for some nuts or avocado or coconut.  I'm nuts about nuts, I admit.  When I eat the things I know my body tolerates, I feel better.  I have energy.  I don't have mood swings.  Life is happier.

But there are some things I still need to stay far, far away from.  Like sugar, of any kind.  And yeast, white flour, and anything processed.  More than just a smidge of plant-fat will do me in.  And no dairy.  A list like this means I need to make all my food from scratch, all the time.  And I need to be really, really careful to keep my guard up.

The doughnuts did me in.  I can only resist goodies for so long, and they were so alluring!  It was bad.  I ate one, and then another.  There may have been a third.  One was a powdered sugar mound of crispiness embracing a raspberry filling.  Another was actually a moist lemon cake disguised as a muffin-top, laced with delightfully tart frosting and peppered with bits of tangy lemon peel.  I savored every morsel, then sucked on my fingers so as not to miss a single atom.

As expected, I got a bad stomachache.  But the next morning there were still doughnuts!  Calling me, taunting me...  I picked up the three holdouts, tied them tightly into a bag and buried them in the garbage.  I didn't care who thought it was wasteful.  Out you go!

But throughout the day, somehow that bag worked its way back up to the top of the garbage and fell open.  And one at a time, those delicious doughnuts fairly jumped into my mouth.  I'm not sure how it happened, but every delicate nibble was delectable.

Payment was extracted over the next few days.  My stomach hurt - for days.  My guts endured all kinds of gastric distress that I'm sure you'd rather me not detail.  I got grumpy.  Normally I'm pretty easy-going, but with sugar I'm downright mean.  I caught the cold that the kids were passing around even though I rarely get sick.  I was discouraged and devoid of energy.  As long as I'm already feeling lousy, I might as well eat one of the cinnamon rolls Trent brought home, right?

That one gave me a bladder infection.  I was so miserable that I ate white bread, which induced a yeast infection.  And I'm still grouchy.

Last night, I even dumped a lengthy laundry list of complaints on my sweet husband.  Poor man.  He's been trying to cope with the kids and an irrational wife, all while adjusting to the learning curve of a new job.  I'm grateful he's so patient with me.

It takes about two weeks to get the sugar out of my system, to replace the cravings with vitality.  Until then, I'm grumpy that I don't get to eat any treats.  I'm trying not to see all the goodies the kids brought home from their Valentin's parties, and failing miserably.  I will continue to attempt to convince myself that the pizza Trent is bringing home for dinner is poison to me.

And I'm begging him to never bring doughnuts into the house again.

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