I decided last week that I was going to challenge myself and cut sugar completely out of my diet.
Because with Halloween fast approaching it just seemed like the perfect, easiest, most convenient time in the world to try and do this. A little cleanse. A little detox. This is going to be great!
Day One.
Saturday morning I woke up congratulating myself on how I’m already doing a great job, regardless of the fact that I had just rolled out of bed, and the night before I eaten four slices of pizza followed by a generous bowl of ice cream. But so far, within seconds of opening my eyes, I was pretty much rocking this no sugar thing.
I had eggs and bacon for breakfast, skipping the toast after quickly realizing bread contains sugar. So I’m off sugar and bread and pretty much anything that comes out of a box or a bag. Because, this is day one and I am really doing fantastic and I’m so healthy now. I decide I am going to keep eating fruit because I’m not an animal. I’m going to eat like a caveman. I mean a cave woman. I’m a cave animal. Anyway, I’m pretty sure cave women ate bananas so I decide it’s probably OK.
For lunch on day one I rolled up some slices of ham from the deli and had a string cheese – I decide that I’m not cutting the cheese (ha!) because I’m sure cave women ate cheese too. Maybe the Italian cave women did. I also have some almonds because I feel like I might fall over and heard almonds can help with this.
Dinner was a huge sweet potato with cottage cheese and a salad with balsamic and olive oil. Gotta say, I’m feeling pretty good and this isn’t so bad. I’m totally full from that giant tuber and calling it a day with the food.
In my mind I’m sure I’ve already dropped at least three-to-five pounds and a pants size. Again, it’s the evening of day one.
Day Two.
I wake up hungry like the cave woman-animal I am, so I make myself an egg/black bean avocado scramble. I kind of miss my toast but have already gone one entire day without bread and know I don’t need it in my life ever again.
Lunch was the same as yesterday with the meat/cheese/nut combo and dinner was another big salad this time with grilled deli chicken and some other fresh veggies.
Without the shoe-sized sweet potato I found myself still hungry and craving more. I grab an apple and some of that hippie peanut butter that you grind yourself in the natural foods section (where my younger son had commented that the goo coming out of the gloppy peanut machine reminded him of our dog pooping.) Me too, but it tasted pretty delicious and did the trick. Another day bites the dust. Eff you sugar, I. Am. Amazing. I don’t need you. This is easy!
Day Three.
I wake up with a headache but power downstairs for my eggs, bananas and any tubers that may still be lying around. I have some coffee because there’s no way in hell I’m giving that up and now that I’m upright my head is beginning to throb. I take a shower and think what could be better on a sunny afternoon than a trip to the mall with my children.
They had some video games they wanted to sell or trade in and I needed some expensive hairspray so off to the mall we went. That can of hairspray will lift my spirits!
We start at the video game store and I’m beginning to feel nauseous. I chock it up to the fact that I have a coat on that is making me hot and the fact that I’m spending a prolonged amount of time at a video game store the size of a walk in closet.
They browse, bicker, finally decide they’ll take the cash like they’re on Let’s Make a Deal and we leave with forty-bucks a piece in their hot little hands.
We head toward the Suncoast Video store and I spot a bench and tell them they can go into the store but Mommy needs a break. I peel my coat off and notice my hands are all clammy and shaky. My head is still pounding and I feel like I could fall over. If I close my eyes I start to nod off in tiny three-second increments. Eff you sugar. Eff you day three.
This is the stuff leaving my body I guess? Holy shit. I feel like Bela Lugosi in that scene from Ed Wood where he is coming off morphine, strapped to a hospital bed screaming and I want to lay on the bench at the mall and do that too but I don’t. I wonder if the cave women ever felt this way as my younger son comes out of the store begging me to come in because he found something he wants to spend his money on.
When I get in he begs and pleads for these really awful slippers with giant poop emoji’s at the toes. They are made for an adult and he is eight. I find the size small, which are still gigantic on him and watch him parade around the store in way too big, unnaturally shaped slippers that are still bound together with a ziptie. We stumble toward the cash register as my eleven year old shakes his head in disbelief that I’m actually allowing this purchase.
The poop emoji slippers cost thirty dollars.
We leave and I’m swaying my way over to Ulta wishing I was back on the cushy bench laying down screaming like Bela Lugosi. I get my expensive hairspray, fail at using an expired coupon, growl at the girl behind the register and get the hell out of there.
I am sweating bullets, cranky as hell and had to pass a Cinnabon, Jamba Juice and Wetzel’s Pretzels on my way out.
The entire day three went on like that, with me finding various places to flop myself onto as I felt the hot flashes and the shakes came on.
I am doing awesome? This is great?
Day four was a “lite” version of day three, same thing but I didn’t have to flop on quite as many things which was good because I was at work. I don’t know what happens next or how long I’m doing this, stop asking me. It’s day four and I’m just trying to get through it.
Today I am on day five and I’m feeling pretty good. I haven’t dropped a pants size but I’m honestly not hungry between meals, I’m not exhausted, not clammy, shaky or surly.
I’m not dipping my hands into the chip bags and cracker boxes. And I’m not eating a tub of tiny chocolate chip cookies that I dip in cookie butter as an after-work-before-dinner snack.
I’m also not buying thirty dollar adult slippers with smiling poop for my kid. But, you know, one day at a time.
Lori’s website, Drawn to the ‘80s, is where her 5-year-old drew the hit music of the 1980’s. Her blog, Once Upon a Product, is where she writes about beauty products, the ‘80s, and Mick Jagger.