Chocolate éclairs, cream buns, sticky date pudding… Karen Miles loves sugar. Well, she used to.
I grew up with a ridiculously sweet tooth. As a kid, you had me at ‘frog in a pond’, sherbet straws from the milk bar and birthdays with sponge cake. Our family photo album has tracked them all.
So why would I ever break up with sugar? I truly, madly, deeply loved sugar, but it was an unrequited love. I found that the
older wiser I got, the less I could enjoy sugar’s sweet, sweet company without feeling terribly ill.
A series of end-of-year celebrations struck a final sugar blow culminating in New Year’s Eve 2015. The champagne toasts resulted in yet another night holed up in the bathroom (I’ll let you imagine the details) alone, bedraggled, muttering something like “sugar is the devil”.
The years of bloating to pregnant lady volumes, bathroom frequenting and reflux once mistaken for a heart attack (not joking, it was on a plane heading back from a twinkie-fueled US holiday) had finally taken their toll. I was breaking up with sugar.
It’s been four months since sugar and I parted ways and our divorce has been surprisingly liberating. My skin is all glowy, my eyes super shiny, and the weird part? I no longer crave sugar. No lusty, over the shoulder backward glances to what could’ve been, no late night expensive ice cream feasts, and no residual feelings towards Lindt 70% dark chocolate.
It’s over. Sugar is dead to me. I have become that woman, laughing into her salad.
PS. Is sugar just not that into you too? Drop back next week to find out how I broke up with sugar.