In celebration of E’s 10th Birthday this past weekend, we had sweets for the first time in almost 9 weeks. Ethan wanted mint chocolate milkshakes, and Tyler wanted cake. We settled on both.
Friday night we had family birthday time, a joyous celebration of sushi and milkshakes while watching Hook. Then Saturday, we had cake (a Texas Chocolate pan cake with fudge icing my mom made) with extended family and a few friends after all the guys took a man-trip to the NASCAR Hall of Fame. Martin wanted to go but needed a nap, so he stayed home with the women-folk.
To be honest, I was pretty nervous about reintroducing sugar back into our lives, but I also had high hopes of it being a magical experience. It wasn’t.
The milkshakes were super sweet and tasty, but I couldn’t finish mine. It wasn’t the enlightening moment of bliss I had hoped for. My stomach gurgled and ached for 20-30 minutes, but I got over it before bedtime. I wasn’t completely intolerant or anything dramatic, but it wasn’t fulfilling, and I didn’t regret our diet the past 8.5 weeks of life. I wasn’t in tremendous pain or nauseated, but I definitely felt the presence of the sweet in my digestive tract for a whole day.
Thinking about it, it wasn’t really a treat though. Feeling slightly grossed out by something and then experiencing some discomfort because of it along with disappointed satisfaction isn’t equivalent to a treat. Seems more like a small punishment or at least a sacrifice. I’m left wondering what would be the epitome of a treat. I’m not sure I have an answer anymore. At some point, I’m sure I’ll come to a new normal for what defines a treat, but for now I’ll just wonder about it.
What I was COMPLETELY shocked by, though I shouldn’t have been, was my sudden emotional reliance on the idea of sweets. Even though the sugar made me feel bad and promised bloating and gas later, I was still tempted to go eat a few bites after already eating a serving. The sugar-cake called from the other room, begging me to come and eat it. I knew it would make me feel bad, and I knew it wouldn’t be satisfying, yet my heart still craved the idea of something I used to rely on before.
Just 24 hours in our house, I was lured away by the idea of sugar. I’m literally an addict who could easily fall back into the habit.
Even Sunday when I went to take a nap, I thought while trying to fall asleep about how delicious it would be to go eat a piece of cake. It would be delicious, but I would regret it later. My irrational thought completely shows how emotionally addicted to and dependent on sugar I have been. It also encourages me, thinking about it rationally now, to keep on with our pact to stay away from sugar.
I’m antsy to get the rest of this cake and ice cream out of our house, and I’m hoping I will avoid desserts until at least Thanksgiving, maybe Christmas. I also can’t believe I’m saying any of these things. I never would have dreamed I would be the sugar-free girl. But here we are.
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