A spoon full of sugar.....

…..makes you feel like total ASS. Seriously. I have always had what you call a “sweet tooth”. I craved sugar like a drowning man craves air. I had to have it. Starburst, Skittles, Lemonheads, Lifesavers, chocolate chip cookies, brownies, cake and ice cream were all my drugs of choice. For the first month without sweets, life seemed almost unbearable. I hated everyone I saw eating something sweet. I wanted to high five them in the face….with a chair.

As time went on, it got easier to walk past the dessert table without wanting to swan dive head first into a raspberry cheesecake. I could even smell cookies baking without salivating like one of Pavlov’s dogs. Eventually, not eating sweets was just a way of life. Ironically I found comfort in making the things I can’t eat, because somehow just touching and smelling it satiated my need to physically inhale it.

Over time I started to allow myself a treat here and there. A cookie at a Christmas party. A small piece of cake at a kids birthday bash. A few pieces of candy from the kids Halloween stash. Then the late night snacks started. Instead of having a cup of tea before bed, I would have a few vanilla crème cookies. Maybe wash them down with a miniature Butterfinger or two. As long as the scale didn’t move up, I had it all under control. Until I didn’t.

I started finding myself stashing candy in my drawer at work. Grabbing a candy bar in the checkout line at the grocery store and eating it in the car. Grabbing a handful of chips while I was cooking dinner. A couple of times, the scale got angry and screamed big numbers at me. My once loose pants didn’t feel so loose anymore. So I would slow down, eat less for a few days, maybe try a laxative and then start over.

I started feeling like absolute shit. I was tired all the time. I didn’t want to work out. My body felt sluggish and worn down. I had headaches and mood swings. Most men would say this was just me being a woman, but after a year and a half of living a healthy life, I could tell it was more than that. I was OD’d on sugar and coming off the high. No one has created a rehab for that, my friends.
Food is a drug. Plain and simple. Like an alcoholic with a drink, you can’t choose to just indulge a little. You have to go cold turkey. So I stopped making excuses, put down the miniature Snickers bar, stopped buying those delicious vanilla crème cookies, and hopped my ass on the elliptical. I opted to eat supper an hour later so I would have no excuse to snack at night. I stopped bringing candy to work. I started prepping my foods ahead of time so I had no reason to skip over the uncut celery and opt for the carb filled sandwich. I stepped away from the bowl of Halloween candy and put my chubby, chocolate covered hands in the air. I surrendered.

My name is Lisa. And I am a sugar-aholic.

Surprise, surprise, once I made the change I felt better (after a few days of feeling like total garbage!). I lost the 5+ pounds I had gained. My pants fit again. I found a renewed energy. I started to believe in me again. I play the following on repeat in my food addicted head:

I will not fail. I am strong and I am capable.
I will not fail. I am strong and I am capable.
I will not fail. I am strong and I am capable.

And it gets me through.