I think it’s Day 30. Which means yesterday, my birthday, was Day 29, which is very fitting since that’s how old I turned. Again.
So, here I am, cruising along this no sugar thing. I have become the woman who says “No, you can’t have those yogurts, there’s too much sugar in them,” and also the woman who shouts, “Oh my gosh, have you tried these raisins? They’re like candy!” on a fairly regular basis. In other words, I’ve become obnoxious.
But I have also had a fair amount of derails from this sugar-free love train. Am I the only one who occasionally punishes my children, when exasperated because apparently they inherited a fair amount of obnoxious themselves, by taking away their Halloween candy…and eating it in front of them? Am I alone in this? I can only mostly blame this on PMS. (I don’t know what Dr. Awesome’s excuse was. Possibly also my PMS. But he would never, ever, EVER in a million years admit that. Unless I die first.) That happened a few times.
By this point in November Bear has already consumed or lost all of her Halloween candy. Boo has a few undesirables rattling around his bowl. And hello, we are LESS THAN A WEEK from Thanksgiving. I’m sorry, but I fully admit it: I’ve already started drooling.
I’m not the only one. Every time we enter the grocery store we are confronted with about thirty massive displays of miniature marshmallows. I shop almost exclusively at Trader Joe’s (which is almost as cheap but slightly more chic than shopping almost exclusively at Aldi) and I’m wondering if mini marshmallows are new this year or if somebody decided they would be “the next pumpkin” because they are everywhere in huge piles all over the store. I imagine the staff are building forts after hours with bags of these things. And every time we pass a pile—which is literally after we pass almost every aisle in the store—Boo grabs a bag and shouts “OH! OH! WE GOTTA GET MARSHMALLOWS!” And I deny it every single time. And let me pat myself on the back here, people, because I love marshmallows. I do. They are actually one of the few (perhaps only) chocolateless confections on my love list. And by that I mean the “I’m stranded on a desert island and I would be packing this” kind of list. They are also heavily featured in a few of my other favorites, like Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food, which has sat uncontested at the top of my ice cream chart for the last 15 years…. I have to stop. I’m killing me. But it reminds me of a good joke I heard the other day.
My car-obsessed Boo, who gives a shout-out to every auto body shop we pass, came into my room to say, “I took me to the body shop today, and got a new body!”
“Oh, got your little car fixed?”
“No, I got MY body fixed!”
“Your body? What did you get, silly Boo? A new leg? A new elbow?”
“Nooooo. Not a leg or an elbow! I got….a new belly.”
“A new belly? Well what was wrong with your old belly?”
“My old belly…was rumbling.”
So, in case you are wondering, on the celebration of my (third annual) 29th birthday, I did not care one way or the other whether sugar was consumed. I went to a friend’s house at her invitation, for example, and since we hadn’t seen each other in a while, she didn’t know I was forgoing sugar, and she had made me a batch of cupcakes to take home. Well, I didn’t take home the cupcakes. But I did tell her, “Look, I’m at your house, I don’t want to be rude; I will eat whatever you serve.” It was my birthday, so naturally she served me twice.
I did have a terrible crash at 3:30 that afternoon. Coffee was standing by.
I treated myself to a sitter and celebrated with some friends at a wine and cheese bar—with a flight of wine, because how often do you turn 29? Certainly no more than half a dozen times. (And apparently, if you’re a man, only once.) And it was so, so worth it. It was grand.