Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Monkey on my back

I think I have come to the conclusion that at the moment, one of my body's reactions to depression is to crave sugar. For most of the past year, I've been struggling with the easy availability of Wawa's donut case and cappuccino machine, replete with chai and Cinnamon Delight cappuccino. This has never in my life been a problem before (I'm typically more of a salty than a sweet craver), but I've never had a year quite this bad either.

But with the advent of spring, I've been feeling better. Time marches on and starts to heal wounds, our social life is starting to come to life a bit and the return of sunlight is almost always good for what ails you. And so I felt the siren call of Wawa less and less, until a couple weeks ago I got a donut and coffee before work, only to discover that I didn't particularly want either. I finished the donut but it took me most of the day. And I drank a third of the coffee and then poured it out and filled the cup with water instead. Since then, I've practically been a culinary monk when it comes to eating healthy.

Until today, when our daycare situation turned sordid as I discovered that my daycare provider has been lying to me in a rather underhanded way (not that any lying is really aboveboard, I admit, but this was a sort of two-facedness that seems particularly egregious). I don't want to hash out the details right now, because mostly I feel like crawling in a hole over the entire situation. Mostly I mention this because I find it notable that along with the sting of betrayal came the almost immediate siren song of fat-laden sugar.

I gave in, just for tonight. But my waistline doesn't thank me for this particular coping mechanism, so tomorrow we will start to try to unravel the daycare mess and I will attempt to find a better way to drown my sorrows.

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