It’s the beginning of a new decade. With all the festivals and weddings that cropped up since I last posted here I have lost count of how many times I've lost the battle with sugar.It's too humiliating.
Poor poor widdle Kenny, he’s having a rough time walking the hills and dales of Porvorim without falling down and shredding his face on the shards of Ice Cream and Chocolate, not to mention wedding cake (the downfall of millions of bachelors worldwide). Sugar is not tobacco, weed, booze, drugs, women, etc. etc. It's me against sweets. What a complete sucker I am.
As you may have gathered, I'm a bit nauseated at my own inability to just do what's healthy for my body. But no! It's tiatr. Save me! I'm on the edge of a cliff, about to jump to my hyperglycaemic death into Creamy Chocolate Fondue Falls.Temptation! The Devil's own work! Argh!
One of my most asinine sugar-high low points of the past few weeks: Death by Chocolate. Me and DC. Never heard of it? It's next to the Fruit Salad on the menu at Dandey’s Grill. Made of chocolate, cream, honey and chocolate flakes, blended together to make this smooth, creamy, sinister, decadent, spreadable, spoonable best treat in the universe. I had two servings. A serving has about 8 teaspoons. I ate each serving in 60 seconds flat. I ordered another. I ate half of it. I saw the error of my ways in the disgusted looks of the others at the table. I knew I couldn't just abandon the other half-portion to the wastebasket or the trash bin outside because I would toss my pride to the monsoon winds and crawl in like a bandicoot and get it out and start up again. So I had it packed and took it home and stored it in the fridge only to slink back at 3 in the morning and lick the bowl clean. What I should have done was poured some hot chilli sauce over it like I had to slay it. Like it was one of those alien snake-creatures; you cut one head off and it just grows another.
There are people in the world with serious problems. My sister-in-laws mother died 2 weeks ago and she asked for a prayer to be said for her at church. A childhood friend has been declared terminal with cancer and one does not know what to say when going to visit. A tourist from Bhopal was beaten up by locals at Baga when he tried to do the usual. yes you guessed it ....molest a Russian woman.Yeah. Imagine that.
So there is no reason at all to whine and whimper and freak out over the fact that I need to stop eating sugary, poison, things that are going to make me sick. And there is no reason to make a big deal of it. Right?
But here's the thing. Take my comforting little habit away from me and there's nothing left between me and, well…. me. If I can't flip my jaw open like a corrupt CWG officials’ wallet and ram a half kilo of sweet stuff down my anxious throat, I will end up in a straitjacket so I have to keep on doing what I’m doing, live the decadent life I’m living, and just deal with it. By the way, if I get any more clichéd in the next 30 seconds, please, someone push the big eject button that will jettison me into the Milky Way. Oh man!. Milky Way !
OK, forget that. I'll sum it up. Ready?
I'm tired of struggling. Fighting the same boring, frustrating, mind numbingly repetitive repetitive repetitive sugar battle, all the time. Give me something new and interesting to fight. Not life-threatening. But maybe a fear of face-booking. Or an obsession with biting my cuticles. Or make me long to trek to the Himalayas in only my underwear.
Give me something. But first let me taste that chocolate strawberry croissant next to the lemon-meringue pie.
