Damn it all to Carb Hell. Why is it so hard to make good food choices? Why does movie theater popcorn taste so damn delicious? Why does a piece of Boston cream pie at 2 AM always sound like a good idea? Why do carbs make you feel warm inside, like you’ve found the promise land of gluttony and instead of guilt, all you feel is sweet or salty goodness on your tongue?
I mean, really. Sure, eating healthier has long-term benefits. I can attest to the fact that eating better makes you healthier in that I haven’t had a single migraine since I’ve been eating better. Not one. Before, during the height of my Cup O’ Crack days, I was having a migraine once a month. Once a month. Anyone suffering from true migraines (I say, “true” migraines, because a regular take-two-Ibuprofen-and-you’re-good headache ain’t no migraine, ya hear?) would understand why this is so monumental, so joyous, so motivating.
So, why isn’t it motivating when I’m faced with a decision- to sneak a pink sprinkle donut into the early-geriatrics-only movie, or not, and I choose to be that person inhaling a donut that, more or less, made it into my mouth, the rest melting between my fat boobs?
Why, Diet Gods? With all that is good and Holy, why?
I have made some positive gains. It hasn’t all been disappointment and let down. I’ve found that eating more than two pieces of rich fudge practically sends me into a diabetic coma. So, I have started eating only one 5 inch square piece of fudge. Progress.
I’ve found that cabbage steaks are actually really good (not the same as actual steak-dripping with salty, bloody garlicky goodness. Erm, excuse me a minute, while I…).
I’ve found that chocolate protein pancakes with banana and sugar-free syrup almost tastes like the real thing.
I’ve found that baking an egg in half of an avocado is the most disgusting fucking thing I’ve ever eaten (do not be fooled by those beautiful Pinterest images of a beautiful egg inside of an inviting avocado, all lightly sprinkled with pepper. It’s horrible. Don’t do it.
I’ve found that drinking more water makes me have to pee every 15 minutes, but I actually do feel more alive.
These are just some of the discoveries I’ve made. What remains glaringly obvious, however, is that resisting a vanilla cupcake with rainbow sprinkled frosting will almost certainly take the strength of the gods.
Sometimes I might be feeling Herculean, most other times I might be feeling like a damn cupcake.
*’Wherefore’, despite the common misconception, does not mean ‘where’. It roughly translates to “Why the actual fuck, cupcakes?”
You can read about it here.