Every time I watch a documentary, I have a total crisis of faith.
Not religiously speaking, but more like a panic over my faith in myself or the world I call home. Whether it's a total meltdown about plastic bags, a sudden urge to free (or destroy) all killer whales (before they destroy us), or a desire to become a doomsday prepper (more to come on that), I leave with some extreme call to action. The worst though, is the food docus. In particular, the ones that make me feel bad about
the food I consume (I'm a selfish creature - sad cows don't bug me, but attack me personally and I hit DEFCON 2).
Recently watched a docu called "Fed Up" - solely because the cover shows two M&Ms spelling out "F U" and I'm a sucker for witty marketing (yes, I judge EVERY book by its cover). Around all the hoopla about childhood obesity, one statistic (lord knows I love me some statistics - and apparently parentheses, too) really hit home. It was in regards to my first love and lifetime addiction. The sweet stuff: sugar.
Per the WHO (the one without Keith Moon), in regards to the daily recommended sugar intake:
"Less than 10% of total energy intake from free sugars - equivalent to 50 g (around 12 tsp) for a person of healthy body weight consuming approx 2000 calories per day, but ideally less than 5%."
So. That's 25 g to 50 g of sugar
per day.
This figure has been quietly haunting me over the past several days. It was coupled with a bunch of lovely info on the addictive properties of sugar - something about lab mice and cocaine vs sugar water that made me hesitate as I mindlessly chugged my soda. Sugar has always been my default life fuel. Mountain Dew, the sweet nectar of the gods, my number one choice when running low on the energy front. Gummies have been consumed by the pound, as breakfast, lunch, dinner and anything in between. How could they demonize my sweet happiness??
As these stats
brain ninja'ed their way around my mind, I started getting super self-conscious about every piece of candy I came within five feet of. Last night, I started to have a freak out about my teeth rotting away and the probability of my being pre-diabetic (something my previous
needle-phobia self always dreaded) until I had a restless night of worry: something had to change.
Cue today, when I resolved to go grocery shopping to get low/no calorie options more readily available. Between meetings, my mind wandered as I planned out sugarless options. And that's when it kicked in. The
craving.
It was like my body knew what I was up to. It knew that I was going to take away it's delicious candies, and its rebuttal was to make me see sense and not deprive it of my favorite things. The chocolately, sugary goodness...
Running to the water tapper, I filled cup after cup of crystal, clear liquid - guzzling it back in an attempt to drown out the craving. Hours later, it was no good. If I didn't get sugar, I was going to literally flip my shit. (Note: for work, it's my job to stare at food all day, so you know, that doesn't really help - especially when it's Christmas cookie prep season.)
Soon, I was scrambling through my bag, seeking cash. The vending machines only take cash, which has always been a blessing and a curse. Grabbing a dollar, I sprinted to the hallway where the decision was made: M&Ms. That would do it. I could just have a
couple now, and a few later maybe. Just a few. Just enough to satisfy the need, but not go nuts.
In went the dollar, and the little spiral started to unwind. And of course... it stopped. Just as the bag teetered on the edge of falling, laughing at me. The fates had decided: no. My
lack of willpower was
not going to fly; the universe stepped in to stop me.
Then the mad dash back to my cube, and the retrieval of another dollar. Frantically, I rushed to the vending machine before someone else could swoop in and screw me out of my treat. Staring at the bag, hanging there, living on a prayer, I knew I should just walk away. Accept that this was a lucky turn of chance and go on my way.
But in went the second dollar. And I left with not one, but
two bags (which made me feel vindicated for the initial screwing over from the machine who tried to fuck with my happiness - no, not still bitter at all). And this afternoon, two bags of M&Ms found their way straight into my mouth. I hulked out on them, with full abandon.
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Celebrating 75 years - of crushing my soul...
It's snack-attack-o'clock, and mama's hangry! |
There were 31 g of sugar in EACH of those tiny bags - so in one fell swoop, I launched well beyond the top end of my daily recommended allotment. If I'd tagged on one of my dear Mountain Dews (at 46 g in one can), I'd have been at triple or double the daily. Now, that didn't happen, because I gave up drinking soda at work when starting my
new job, but the overall tally is mind blowing.
So this week, it's low sugar. And by "low," I mean, at least staying within that range. Once you start actually looking at how many things have added sugars (or natural sugars even), it's almost like... I may starve. Okay, that won't really happen, but still, it may feel like it. There will be a point in the morning at work, walking into a meeting, when I'm exhausted and need a boost, and sugar won't be there to pick me up. Because it lifted up those coke rats, and it didn't end well for them. So. Time for some awareness and time for some change. Here goes nothing!
