Hello, my name is Susan and I'm a carboholic

This morning I have a carb hangover. For weeks I’ve abstained (mostly) from sugar and breads. Why would I do this to myself? Because when I eat those things, I can’t stop. I’m like an alcoholic. In Stephen King’s memoir on writing (at least I think that’s where I read it), he describes the alcoholic philosophy. When people asked how much he drank, he answered, “All of it.” He couldn’t understand how someone could pour themselves a glass of alcohol and not finish every last drop. Not only would he finish the glass, he would finish the entire bottle. It was all or nothing for him. When it comes to carbs, I can relate.   

So when my husband offered me a Brach’s caramel last week, I hesitated. I knew that if I ate just one, that could open the floodgates to yet another season of sugar-addiction that would inevitably end in a zit eruption, bloating, perhaps some gastro-intestinal distress, joint pain, and general crankiness that will end in a full-blown panic attack when faced with trivial decisions like what to make for dinner or what pair of overalls to wear with which t-shirt.

I was also aware that my resolve to give up carbs had been slowly deteriorating in small ways. Whereas in the beginning I had been able to feed my family French bread without actually partaking of it myself, lately I had gone to toasting slices of my “special” sprouted-grain bread after each meal, slathering ever more all-fruit jelly and butter on each slice, trying to convince myself that the cardboard bread I was eating tasted every bit as good as the artisan loaf my family had devoured with dinner. I found myself watching the kids eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with intense interest, salivating at the thought of the high-fructose corn syrup-laden grape jelly and smooth, sticky peanut butter in my own mouth. The worst was when my sister brought over little bags of Halloween treats for the kids. She gave us three bags exactly, which should have insured that I wouldn’t eat some myself. But it was like leaving a can of beer on the counter and expecting the family alcoholic to pass it by, unnoticed. Eventually, I sniffed it out. 

It was while cleaning the family room that I found one of the bags on the floor, its contents spilling out on the carpet. I picked it up, and a piece of candy corn fell out. When I peered inside, I smelled the sweet buttery scent of caramel popcorn. “Maybe just one piece,” I told Myself. “Yeah, right,” Myself said. “You know exactly what that means. One will turn into the whole bag.” I spied the candy corn on the floor. “What if I just ate one of those?” I asked Myself. I remembered last year, when I made a daily trek to the grocery store to buy eight pieces of candy corn to satisfy my craving. It seemed better than buying a whole bunch, because I knew that I’d eat the entire load if I did that. And I’d do it in less than an hour, no doubt. But right then, standing in my own house, having abstained from the temptation to eat sugar for weeks, I thought I deserved a reward for my efforts. So, even though you can practically see the germs on my carpet, I picked up the candy corn and popped it in my mouth. “Don’t do that!” Myself said. But I didn’t listen.

The sweetness exploded on my tongue. Little things in my brain—I’m not sure what they’re called—shot off tiny fireworks of pleasure. Sugar! Glorious sugar! my brain sang to myself. I missed you so!  I chewed slowly, attempting to prolong the experience. But candy corn is actually pretty small and can only last for so long. So I ate another piece. Then another. And before long I had fetched a bowl from the kitchen and emptied the whole bag into it, then proceeded to eat the whole thing all by myself. After a few minutes, all that remained were specks of caramel corn in the bottom of the bowl. “Can’t let that go to waste,” I said to myself. So I picked up the bowl and tossed back the crumbs into my mouth. And that was the beginning of my demise. 

Pretty soon I was eating large bags of yogurt raisins for lunch and nibbling on licorice while cooking dinner. Then it was bread with my soup and saltine crackers for snacks. But the worst was yesterday, when I made seven batches of granola laden with brown sugar and honey. I made the mistake of telling Myself to sample some of it, just to make sure it tasted all right. “Don’t lie to yourself,” Myself said. “You know as well as I do that you’re just going to nibble this all afternoon until you feel sick to your stomach.” This gave me pause. In fact I had planned on snacking on my granola while I made it. Throughout church that morning I had envisioned standing in the kitchen, the comforting smell of sweet things baking permeating the house, snacking on freshly made granola, which if we’re going to be honest, is really oatmeal cookie dough in disguise. In my vision I was smiling and happy, like a cow grazing in a pretty green pasture. “You be quiet,” I told Myself. Myself scowled, then retreated to the back bedroom, leaving me to my decadence. 

Sure enough, I didn’t stop with just one taste. I nibbled and noshed until my stomach cried for mercy. I was so full by the time dinner rolled around that I couldn’t even look at any food, granola or otherwise, let alone eat it. So I retreated to the back bedroom for a nap. When I opened the door, there was Myself, waiting for me. “I told you so,” Myself said smugly as I clutched my stomach and groaned. I lay on the floor and closed my eyes. My stomach felt distended, stretched beyond its capacity, filled with empty calories, which, at that moment, felt full of lead. “Just let me die in peace,” I begged Myself. Then I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

They say that, in moderation, carbs cannot kill you. But “They” don’t know me. I’d wager to say that if someone left an innocent little bag of candy on their kitchen counter, “They” could walk past with nary a thought. But not me. I’m a carboholic. Give me a whiff of one grain of sugar and pretty soon I’ll be ransacking my kids’ room looking for stray bits of candy in their sock drawers. If you don’t believe me, just ask Myself.

PS

I had thought to photograph some candy corn to accompany this post. But that would have been too dangerous. I'm sure you understand.     

Comments

[Susan Hayward]

Brianne,

Gluten free is better known as fun-free. Necessary for some of us, yes. But definitely the pits.

[Susan Hayward]

Chizuko,

I had much more will power in college. I was actually a little too strict with myself. I mean, I went to Europe and didn't eat any gelato. How stupid was that? I seem to swing from saint to sinner all the time. Now I need to exercise more to make up for all the treats!

[Susan Hayward]

Emily,

I feel your pain. There are more of us carboholics than I realized. Too bad about your husband crossing to the dark side. The way I got off sugar a month or so ago was to eat way more protein, like from an animal, not nuts or tofu. Somehow that convinced my body that it was happy. But all it took was one little slip and I was a goner.

May you survive this heinous holiday season without as much sugar, but with just as much fun (are the two mutually exclusive, or inclusive? I can't decide.).

[Emily U]

I never knew there was a name for my condition until I read your post! I, too, am a carboholic. I allow myself to buy one bag of candy corn each season, knowing I will eat the whole thing myself (this usually happens around August 31, when the stores come out with Halloween candy). I will make one batch of decorated Halloween sugar cookies, knowing I won't be able to stop myself from eating them all.

My condition has become seriously worse since my husband has gone all whole-grain & no sugar. His triglycerides were high (genetics) and he'll do anything to avoid the Type II diabetes both of his parents have. Once he got his blood work back he's sworn off all simple carbs and never looked back. I don't know where he gets his iron will, but I certainly don't share it. So now when I bake, I'm REALLY doomed to eat it all myself.

I've stopped baking as much as I used to (and started leaving the sugar out of my granola, it's sweetened with 1/2 cup molasses and 1/2 cup honey per ~15 cups granola - it's still pretty good) but I make up for the lack of sweets at home at the bakery and the vending machine. And now I feel more guilty about it because there's something so intentional about walking up to a vending machine, putting in my dollar, and getting 300 calories worth of sugar...

[chizuko]

I gain my friend. I made chololatecookies 36pieces and I ate 2/3 by myself!! and same week I baked again and I quit making but I often think to bake. I complelety undestand. But when you were in college I never seen you eating sweets. How could you manage that when you were college? Every time when I ate sweets I though, How could Susan hesitate to eat this yummy food? But no guilty!! You did good job so far. I gain 10pounds within a month. I better quit sweets with you!!
I enjoyed your blog, I laughed a lot. thanks.

[Brianne Barnson]

Auntie Susan! Its ok I'm on a 3 week torture experience of NO carbs,wheat, sugar, gluten, starches, etc. We can suffer together. BUT we both know we feel better when we do it.... :p

[Shelly]

Have you tried stevia yet? You can bake with it, and although it does not produce the same results as sugar, it manages to satisfy my cravings, although you are still not eliminating carbs...

[MaryB]

Oh, Susan! I'm so sorry! It's all my fault for bringing goodies to your house. I brought Laura down, too. I think...OK, I KNOW...that I'm a carboholic too! Is there a group for that? I might need some help.

[Paisley Kleinhenz]

I completely understand and was just explaining this exact senario to my YWs class yesterday for our lesson about Nutrition and the Word of Wisdom. I too am a carboholic!