|Cubicle photo background taken by Wendel F.|
It's the fourth week of my life without sugar. It's been rough. I slipped on my birthday but have been pretty good since then, as long as I am allowed an apple or two a day. I'm trying not to ravenously consume an orchard's worth of apples in place of refined sugar, but it's hard.
I've started trying to eat protein at every meal based on advice given in The Sugar Addict's Total Recovery Program. Because I can't eat wheat either, my breakfasts have been growing more and more bizarre every day. Squash, organic plain yoghurt and garlic-fried catfish, anyone? (This is especially a fun smell for my sister to wake up to in the morning.)
*crunch crunch crunch*
Combine that with the fact that I am now a huge whiner and cranky pants, and I am everyone's favourite person.
Unfortunately, my food-denial-rage isn't being targeted at any of the people who deserve it. (You who made chocolate fudge and ate it in front of me, you know who you are.)
Next week I start something called "The Miracle Diet" which means I can't eat yoghurt or pretty much ANYTHING that I like at all for two weeks. I will keep you all posted. I'm sure my next post will sound something like "I've made a cave under my desk and am only doing work in exchange for iPod chargers and tofu-flavoured bran flake crumbles. If you have something nice to say to me, slide it under the cubicle wall and I will crawl to your desk and leave a reply in the night, when there are no food temptations in my path. Except that wouldn't even work because I would probably scrounge through people's garbages on the way and eat cardboard containers that smell like they once held cheeseburgers. It might be better to leave your note on a post-it and I will spell my replies on my etch-a-sketch keychain, to be updated hourly. Do not breach the cave unless more than two days have passed since my last etch-a-sketch communication attempt."