I quit sugar.

If I had to describe myself in three words or less, I’d go with “raging sugar addict”. It shames me to admit it, but I have been known to add five teaspoons of sugar to a cup of hot chocolate. Those desserts that most people outgrow by the age of eight because they become nauseating to eat? Yeah, I eat those for breakfast (when I bother to eat breakfast). When The Wasp asked me what to include in my next care package from home, I insisted on CSR brown sugar, because I had not found an acceptable version of brown sugar in the Netherlands. Yes, I’d tried out more than one type.

So facing the not-medically-confirmed possibility of having my legs amputated from diabetes at age 30, I decided drastic action was needed. I was going to face my kryptonite, wrestle my delectable demon, conquer the cake. I decided to quit sugar.

That’s right people. I quit sugar. For three. whole. days.

It went a little something like this:

Day 1: I am an incredible human being. I am so inspirational, look at how health conscious I am! You know what world? I’m even going to go to the gym!

Day 2: This is amazing! I don’t even miss it! This is going to be a piece of cake! Wait, what? Cake….. no! Stay strong!

Day 3: Maybe chocolate made with 92% cocoa and sweetened with rice malt syrup will be delicious…. pah! What is this travesty?

Day 4: Fuck it. I’m going to buy a packet of delicious biscuits and eat them all in one go with some ridiculously sweet tea. Oh sugar, darling, where have you been all my life??

I thought about being kind to my body and waistline and getting back on the no sugar bandwagon, but then it started raining. And what am I supposed to do on days when it’s cold and miserable outside, when all the leaves are brown and the sky is grey? I’m supposed to drink super sweet tea and eat chocolate biscuits while watching How I Met Your Mother, that’s what I’m supposed to do!

I also just found out I have one month to learn and figure out how to sing Bach’s torture chamber of a cantata, Jauchzet Gott in allen Landen. And there is no way in hell I’m going to manage that coloratura minus a jittery sugar high.

All in the name of art, right?




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