The trajectory of my sugar detox so far has run thusly:
Day 1: Amused frustration and incredulity (“Golly! Sugar is in everything!”)
Day 2: Mildly sanctimonious determination (“Who needs sugar? I am a paragon of fortitude!”)
Day 3: Confidence (“Do I want a croissant? Yes. But I don’t need it.”)
Day 4: Cracks in the foundation (“Shouldn’t I feel suddenly healthy and glowy and awesome right now? I feel the same. Where is my payoff?”)
Day 5: Cranky sugar-withdrawal meltdown
Welcome to day five. I would kill up to three endangered animals for an over-sized sour key right now. Five if I don’t have to look them in the eye.*
I think the problem is that health bloggers are duplicitous, evil demon-spawn bent on destroying humanity with vicious lies and broken promises.
Let me try that again. I think the problem is that, based on some popular, hyperbolic accounts of the benefits of eschewing the evil white crystals, I expected sugar detox to instantly make me feel more energetic, happier, healthier. My laugh would ring out effortlessly with the joy of healthy living. My skin would glow like a dewy moon, and my hair would shine like a …super shiny something else. It’s hard to think off candy.
Some (infinitely patient) friends pointed out, as I seriously contemplated mainlining some maple syrup, that it may take more than five days to feel the effects of a major dietary shift. I will let you know if they are right. At the end of the day I am stubborn as all hell. So on we go!
*Clearly I would not kill an actual white rhino for a sour key. Do I look like a sociopathic Texas cheerleader? It’s hyperbole, people.