OMG! I feel like I’m going to die!
I’m sweating profusely. I have a massive headache. My stomach hurts. I’m shaking like a berserk maple tree in a gale-force wind. If I had known that giving up sugar cold turkey was going to be as bad as going cold turkey off heroin I never would have done this. Five days now I’ve resisted sugar snacks. I’ve even given up ice cream after dinner. But I swear to you if someone walked by eating a cookie right now, I don’t think any court of law in the land could hold me accountable for what I would do next. I’m crazy for a sugar fix. I lust for a sugar fix. I’m so desperate I’ve even considered riding my bicycle to the grocery store to buy a package of oatmeal raisin cookies or Little Debbie chocolate rolls. See, I’m reasoning if I rode my bike I could counter some of the effects of the cookies and chocolate rolls when I gobbled them up.
I’ve even been thinking Sam might taste kind of good in a sweet brown sugar barbecue sauce. Oh God won’t you help me! Kick me through the goal posts of life and help me. Cable guy, help me gitter’ done.
I’ve been Type 2 diabetic for several years now and it finally has caught up with me so that I now am shooting up insulin. I didn’t want to, but my doctor pointed out that the operation I have to have on my eyes is a direct result of abusing my body with candy, cookies, ice cream, pasta, white rice, potatoes, donuts, yada, yadsa. In other words, everything I like and everything I shouldn’t have been eating so much of the last 20 years. But I have zero will power. I didn’t realize eating food could make you go blind. I thought playing with yourself too much did that. Or was that insane? I think my mom lied to me about a few things.
Anyway, since I had to go on insulin, I decided finally, at long last, that I would quit eating sweets. I need to give up eating too much too - you know, those second helpings - but OMG, it’s so hard. Well-meaning people keep telling me I’ll live longer if I can pull this off and I say, “Maybe I’ve lived long enough already. I have no desire to live to be 100 years old anyway. I was at my health provider’s the other day - Group Health (it’s like Kaiser for you California people) - and I saw all these ugly, decrepit-looking OOOLLDDD people. I don’t want to get old if I have to get ugly and decrepit too, especially ugly.
I confess I’ve been acting kind of like a cancer patient this week, moaning and whining, “Why me God?” I can’t remember though if that stage comes before or after denial. I think I’ve already been through denial. Next thing you know I’ll start losing my hair because it isn’t being fed its usual ration of sugar.
I had this dream last night of me with my arms around a 50-pound sack of sugar, holding on desperately as some people on the other end of a rope tried to pull me into the pit of total sugar withdrawal - the pit of no return.
Three bags of poop on giving up sugar. What is this, a Stephen King nightmare?
I’m sweating profusely. I have a massive headache. My stomach hurts. I’m shaking like a berserk maple tree in a gale-force wind. If I had known that giving up sugar cold turkey was going to be as bad as going cold turkey off heroin I never would have done this. Five days now I’ve resisted sugar snacks. I’ve even given up ice cream after dinner. But I swear to you if someone walked by eating a cookie right now, I don’t think any court of law in the land could hold me accountable for what I would do next. I’m crazy for a sugar fix. I lust for a sugar fix. I’m so desperate I’ve even considered riding my bicycle to the grocery store to buy a package of oatmeal raisin cookies or Little Debbie chocolate rolls. See, I’m reasoning if I rode my bike I could counter some of the effects of the cookies and chocolate rolls when I gobbled them up.
I’ve even been thinking Sam might taste kind of good in a sweet brown sugar barbecue sauce. Oh God won’t you help me! Kick me through the goal posts of life and help me. Cable guy, help me gitter’ done.
I’ve been Type 2 diabetic for several years now and it finally has caught up with me so that I now am shooting up insulin. I didn’t want to, but my doctor pointed out that the operation I have to have on my eyes is a direct result of abusing my body with candy, cookies, ice cream, pasta, white rice, potatoes, donuts, yada, yadsa. In other words, everything I like and everything I shouldn’t have been eating so much of the last 20 years. But I have zero will power. I didn’t realize eating food could make you go blind. I thought playing with yourself too much did that. Or was that insane? I think my mom lied to me about a few things.
Anyway, since I had to go on insulin, I decided finally, at long last, that I would quit eating sweets. I need to give up eating too much too - you know, those second helpings - but OMG, it’s so hard. Well-meaning people keep telling me I’ll live longer if I can pull this off and I say, “Maybe I’ve lived long enough already. I have no desire to live to be 100 years old anyway. I was at my health provider’s the other day - Group Health (it’s like Kaiser for you California people) - and I saw all these ugly, decrepit-looking OOOLLDDD people. I don’t want to get old if I have to get ugly and decrepit too, especially ugly.
I confess I’ve been acting kind of like a cancer patient this week, moaning and whining, “Why me God?” I can’t remember though if that stage comes before or after denial. I think I’ve already been through denial. Next thing you know I’ll start losing my hair because it isn’t being fed its usual ration of sugar.
I had this dream last night of me with my arms around a 50-pound sack of sugar, holding on desperately as some people on the other end of a rope tried to pull me into the pit of total sugar withdrawal - the pit of no return.
Three bags of poop on giving up sugar. What is this, a Stephen King nightmare?
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