mainlining sugar

I’ve been mainlining sugar lately.

A scoop and a half of palm sugar in each of my three cups of French press every morning, two cups of deeply honey’d chai tea in the afternoon, fudgey brownies from the health food store which I’m convinced don’t count due to them being gluten free and laced with protein powder - but still, I can’t stop eating them (Sometimes I buy two and consider it lunch)

Tonight for dinner, I had a slice of my favorite, way-bigger-than-need-be, lemon meringue pie from a cafe called The Glasshouse, situated next door to my favorite hotel in Sanur.

I always think I should give up sugar, but it’s one of the only vices I still have left (and who would I be without a vice?) I became a sugar girl when I stopped being a wine girl. Seems this is a common trait of the booze loving teetotaler.

I once had a boyfriend who quit drinking after three DUIs. He bought sour patch kids in bulk, and after riding the bus home from work, he’d fiendishly devour them while wearing sweatpants and hollering sports words at the TV.

On my brother’s recent visit to Bali, we helped him procure ice cream three different times one day. He’s also alcohol free, but insisted throughout his stay that he was, in fact, “feeding his parasite”. Certain he’d acquired it from one of his many cats long ago, he seemed not only content with his intestinal house guest but considered it his duty as a good host to honor its every demand.

I’d like to think that my consumption habits are not as severe as these other sugar lunatics. But isn’t that the logic every addict uses to justify their behavior?

As I fork the last bits of lemony goodness into my pie hole, I resign to go on a sugar sabbatical. M reminds me that I say this at least once a month.

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