I feel like I’ve had an epiphany.
It’s like the time I figured out where we go when we die (our brains are just transmitters picking up signals from a remote life source, and our ‘selves’ aren’t really present in our bodies like we’ve always thought, but powered remotely from one single immense energy source that fuels all of life for eternity so that when we die we don’t stop existing, we just sink back into the life force and end up in the body of a squirrel, or a blob fish, or another species on a far away planet we don’t even know about yet).
I don’t need sugar.
That’s my most recent epiphany. It’s not like I ever ate a lot of sugar anyway – not like other people I’ve read about who describe daily chocolate bars and fizzy drink addictions. Sweet stuff for me was a weekend treat (which admittedly sometimes turned into a frenzied binge), but I’ve realised now my main sugar consumption came from things like fruit, flavoured yoghurt, raisins and cereal bars. These things I would allow myself on a daily basis because they seemed healthy. I thought I had to have a sugar hit to make it through the day and the best way to not make it chocolate was to make it one of these things.
And that’s the crux of it. It became habit, to round lunch off with a pot of melon, or a Naked bar. Then to round dinner off with a strawberry yoghurt garnished with a handful of dried fruit and nuts.
It didn’t feel like I was being unhealthy but as far as my body’s concerned, sugar is sugar and obviously I’ve been storing more than I burn. I’ve got to a point where I can’t physically fit any more exercise into my daily routine, as much as I’d like to. I have body attack and yoga on mondays, boot camp tuesdays, gym and body balance wednesdays, boot camp or run thursdays, Zumba fridays, boxercise or kettle bells saturday and run or yoga sundays.
I also walk every day for at least 20 minutes, stand at my desk and use a Gymba board to walk while I write.
Still, I am failing to lose weight – or fat, for those of you thinking ‘maybe it’s muscle. It’s not. It’s fat. I measure myself constantly for fear that I will just keep expanding like that little bratty girl from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
Since giving up sugar three days ago, I have felt lighter. Not physically, obviously not physically, my body’s not giving up the battle that easily. But I am no longer burdened by my old habit of turning to sugar to boost my energy and mood. It’s as easy as that. I have made sugar off limits and now I don’t have to battle with myself over whether or not to eat that sort of unhealthy Nature Valley granola bar in my draw – because I simply can’t. It’s no longer an option. I have sworn off sugar.
If I’m hungry then I have an egg, or tuna, or tofu, or cucumber and a bit of hummus – and all of these things are so much more filling than a piece of fruit.
Apart from the fact that I’ve not had a poo since Wednesday, I’m feeling great. I’m hoping that when my messed up, ridiculously inadequate digestive system finally gets used to this strange new world without sugar, I’ll shit out about 10kg and magically morph into Elle McPherson.