It started off as such a sweet love affair. I was naive and following a familial pattern. I had no idea when it started out how dangerous it would end up being. He haunts my days and sometimes my nights.
He has many incarnations, all with the same vampiric allure of that guy you wanted to date with the pack of smokes and motorcycle. The one your mother would never let you go out with if he ever asked you out. The one that smelled of fire and leather. The one with the promise of fantastic silent sex that he would never acknowledge with more than a secret smile as he passed you in hall.
Sparky knows and understands. He is encouraging and supports me when I fail and have to pay the price. Since I started working again, I have been extremely vigilant in avoiding him because when I don’t, he ruins my day and sometimes I get so sick I can’t concentrate and end up in the bathroom regretting my weakness.
He has many names and many forms, but I know his essence. He is… Carbohydrate.
Carb and I go way back. He taunts me with taste and comfort. He used to be my “Go To” man for all life’s problems. However, in my quest to lose weight, I have had to cut him off. I had to replace him with the uptight debate team guy, who, while sort of satisfying in a long term sort of way, never really scratches that itch, if you know what I mean. I am healthier without him, my body is happier, but my soul… my soul yearns for him.
I have 18 pounds left. Eighteen pounds of pure hell.
Carb is like Timbaland these days and likes me the way I am (I can’t write “are”, sorry) and he is begging me for one last dance. However, since I eat so few carbs these days, the moment I do, I start a sick cycle carousel that takes me a day to end. It’s the hypoglycemic roller-coaster. I eat a carb and my blood sugar sky rockets. Then it plunges down, down, down until I have a reaction which includes loss of concentration, shakiness, cold sweats and stomach problems. Then I have to eat something with sugar to come back up, but then it drops again and the day continues as such until I’m so physically and mentally exhausted I fall asleep.
The good part is every day is a new day and I can start fresh with only numbers on the scale reminding me of the day before.
Today I failed. I had ordered in breakfast for the company and it included bagels, muffins, fruit salad and fresh juice. I invited him into the building. I was totally on the spot to eat and I was only too happy to indulge. I mean really, bagels, a work function, people asking if I was going to eat? I couldn’t possibly have said no. My normal response is “No thanks. I smoke.” I know it makes almost no sense, but I can only do one. Eat or smoke and since I’m not eating the cigarettes, the betrayer I call my body, senses no real caloric intake and thus is forced to rely on its fat stores. Take that metabolism.
However, half a bagel just about killed me. It lead to the sugar shock and then I had to have 4 mini snickers to make up for it. Then when the snickers wore off I had one mini Santa and now I think I’m okay again which is good because I’m off to go drinking with some colleagues from work. I hear alcohol has no sugar whatsoever. ARGHHHHHH.
Now before anyone gets their panties in a knot, I do eat and I am healthy and I am under a doctor and an obsessive husband’s supervision. I take my Flintstones and drink my protein shakes and eat in restaurants, but I don’t eat carbs. I have learned to totally skip the pasta section of menus. I don’t even look because there is sure to be a creamy delish pasta I would kill to have. So I don’t look. Candy? Not a problem if I cut it out completely. I can’t have a single bite and I’m good to go. Let’s not talk about bagels.