My name is Pamela and I am a sugar addict.
Sugar is like Ryan Gosling, super sweet to look at and does tasty things to my mind. While sugar can’t take their shirt off and have Emma Stone convinced they are photoshopped, consuming them makes me feel better about myself. At times, especially when combined with red food colouring, it will make me hypo. But let’s face it I have the worst sweet tooth and it needs to be removed from my mouth. After Easter of course, that is cruel to deprive someone of the sugarman during the most fattening time of the year (after Christmas and the season finale of Offspring). Think of all the amazing products comprising of sugar. Coffee. Soft drink. Chocolate. Any creation Adriano Zumbo has thrown at Masterchef contestants as a form of torture. Apparently Boost Juice is full of it too but we won’t tell the fitspo blogs that.
So why do sugar and I need to drift apart and in the words of Taylor Swift, never ever ever get back together? Simple. The last eight or nine months I have been doing a complete overhaul. In an attempt to lose weight and get abs/buns of steel/a box gap I have been doing a lot of changes. I quit bumming cigarettes off hot guys whilst drunk. I stopped drinking beer. Stopped spending lunch breaks at the carvery downstairs from work gorging on lasagne and chips. But in seriousness, I have made a permanent commitment to my health. I made friends with salad. Kale, quinoa and I are besties. I’m in the process of cutting out gluten (having my brother diagnosed with Crohn’s just before Christmas was a big deciding factor). I’m slaving away at the gym for more than an hour four to five times a week and I have a punishing, yet amazing personal trainer who is transforming me into the stronger, fitter woman I am today. If Lorna Jane need a new ambassador, get me on board.
The one thing I have left to do is the hardest. Essentially, I don’t think I can do it. Hello, I am the queen of cakes!!! What else are we supposed to have for birthdays and weddings? It’s not the same giving little Jack and Ava carrot sticks when they come trick or treating. Saying “I love you” with celery doesn’t have the same effect as a giant box of those chocolate marble sea shell thingys that look so 90’s yet are deliciously delicious. And we may as well scrap the dessert menu if we cut out sugar. I just don’t think I can do it.
In the meantime, I’m better off cutting down my intake of the white refined powder. I’m using Natvia in my morning coffee, I just that’s a significant change from the two teaspoons of white sugar I did have for years. And there’s heaps of places now selling gluten-free, vegan-friendly desserts. Southside Tea Room at Morningside in Brisbane’s inner-south have a fantastic range and I highly recommend their red velvet whoopie pies. Genki Cafe, a popular cafe situated in my hometown of Palm Beach, have started specialising in raw cheesecakes. Surprisingly better than the baked and fat-ladden ones I indulged in on a regular basis. But I can’t bear the thought of ditching the pre-menstrual block of Cadbury Snack and the occasional Killer Python.
Sorry body, but sugar is here to stay. You got used to the wine, harden up and enjoy the shitloads I will be consuming over the Easter break.
PS. My friends’ band British India (the pictured victims of a rainbow explosion) have realised a new album – “Controller” – which is available at decent music stores and through iTunes. This is a genuinely fantastic recording and I absolutely recommend it. Support Australian music and buy a copy. Then buy another copy for your parents. Then one for your siblings. Do a Pay It Forward-style scheme but involve this CD instead. They’re also touring over the next couple of months so you should consider checking them out.