Hello Stella

hello my name is stella and I am addicted to sugar.

Caveat #1:
I don't really think there is anything wrong with sugar. I love sugar. Nothing makes me happier than eating a big piece of birthday cake made with buttercream icing, unless it is drinking a sweet tea from chik-fil-a or eating an oreo.

So what? I am an addict and I love my addiction. You can drink your diet cokes and munch on 5 almonds when you are hungry--go right ahead, give my a dr. pepper and reese's peanut butter cup and eat your heart out.

But I don't like what I look like right now. I am very soft in the middle. Today Annabelle said my tummy was like a pillow. And I think sugar is responsible--that and sugar's best friend, butter, but let's focus on one issue at a time.

I started during pregnancy. I used to be somewhat disicplined and just have a couple of cokes a week. Then I got knocked up and was sleepy during lunch so I ordered a coke every day at work. But since we only had an hour and a half for lunch and since I am a slow drinker I would just take a couple of sips and be done. No real harm. Then, as I may have mentioned before, I quit my job in a steaming fit of rage when a somewhat douchey person became my new boss. When I started to stay home, I still had the dp habit, despite the fact I was 14 months past my due date. But even though I was still a slow drinker, there was no one there to throw away my coke after lunch and clear the table, so I would sip on it for the rest of the day. We would also have pancakes every day for breakfast, but again one issue at a time.

Then, knocked up II, the sequel wherein there was never a pizza crust I didn't touch.

And now here we are--me and my buhdda belly (and butt and thighs)

The thing is, I would never let my kids touch a coke. I view myself as a steward of their health and teaching them how to be healthy. Annabelle thinks they are "spicy" and stays away form them. She also is starting to get that they are bad for you and told me not to drink too many. So why can't I be a steward for my own body?

Oh, yeah, because I am an addict.

Then I got a text this weekend from my former Boss M______ S________ (my f-bm for short) bragging about how he can run 10 miles at a 9 and a half pace and he is 44 and has ms. I could not even run one mile right now. FBM made me think of what a certain rapscallion, who imparted upon me two very important pieces of wisdom:always have your client testify in a DWI case and never drink your calories.

So I have made a decision. And I am announcing it on this blog so I will have to be honest about it.

I will not have another sweet drink until Christmas day. Please note: I do not believe in saying ever again, because that would be ridiculous and a lie. But if I could just get back to drinking one once a week, I would be in good shape.

Which brings me to caveat number 2: To celebrate my decision, I am finishing off my sweet tea from Rudys. One last hurrah.

But let me keep my butter--or else just put a gun to my head and shoot me, because a life without butter is just clabber.