Minor Set Backs

So I got D-RUNK on Friday night, and believe it or not, I am feeling guilty about all that sugar that I drank. Well, that, and the fact that I spent $60 on punishing mine and my friend's livers. God, it was fun. I was holding steady, my drink one to everyone else's drink three, and then all of a sudden, someone said champagne, and the next thing I know, it's 3:30 in the morning, and I'm hiking through a public park in downtown Asheville with four other people, singing songs from the Little Mermaid. Champagne has always been my favorite. It's like bacon to my wanna-be vegetarianism. The proverbial thorn in my side. And man, it's hard to turn down when there's an attractive woman holding a flute and batting her eyes at me. (sigh) Especially when it's her birthday, I haven't seen her in four years, and she's been jogging six days a week since I saw her last. If I was a man, someone would have already accused me of thinking with my dick.

But that was Friday, and now it's almost Tuesday, and I haven't had sugar since Saturday night, when I drank a mojito with my friends at dinner. I'm kind of hooked on this no sugar thing. It makes me feel great, my mood is noticeably more chipper, I have more energy when I'm supposed to, and I'm more tired at night when I lay down in bed. This is good for me. I'm enjoying it.

There is a strange sense of newfound power, when I walk through the grocery store, obsessively reading labels, and discarding 99% of all that I touch. The American diet really is based around refined sugar. It's no wonder we all went and got fat. I'm not a slave to the junk food anymore, no sir, no how. I walk past the shiny cookie bags, and the demure ice cream tubs and I think to myself, I don't need you. Kind of like that lady in that weird Weight Watchers commercial when she tells off the teddy bear cake. It feels good that my palms don't sweat, and I don't have to struggle with the guilt of knowing I'm going to buy something and eat it all to get rid of the evidence. I just walk by, smiling, en route to the produce section. Step off, sugar...you ain't the boss of me. Not anymore.