I have a food hangover.
I woke up with it. You know the feeling -- headache, nauseous, grumpy, dry mouth, shaky.
Ahhh, good times.
Waking up this way always leads me to the inevitable question: WHY am I doing this to myself?
You see, I struggle with food addiction. Namely, I'm addicted to sugar. REEEEEALLY addicted to sugar. And most days, I overdo it. Yesterday, for example, I consumed two super sugary cupcakes and a stale lemon bar. Did it matter that it was stale? Nah. As long as it has sugar in it and all over it.
My addiction to sugar started early. Probably the age of 1 year old. My mother decided that for the first year of my life I wouldn't have sugar and that's how life went. Then my first birthday came around and the story goes that my mother decided "Well, it's her birthday. We'll make a cake because it's a special occasion" and make that cake she did. It was pink. ALL pink. With tons of little googamies on it (that's what Babydoll calls sprinkles).
Apparently this pink monstrosity also had tall candles and sparklers on it. No one cared about the danger of sparklers on a cake in front of a baby. This was 1970, man! Photo documentation shows me sitting in my high chair staring at this beast...then gingerly poking my finger into the sweet frosting...then putting my finger in my mouth. As my mother told it, after that first taste my eyes widened and I lunged at the cake with my entire hand, grabbing a fistful and shoving it into my face. She said the cake was everywhere. And that's where the love affair began.
Today, however, it doesn't feel like love. It feels like abuse. Self abuse. Addiction. Because although I wake up strung out, what's bubbling in the back of my mind is "Where can I get my sugar today? What will I eat?"
And it starts all over again.
