Since I can remember, I have been a sweetaholic. As a child, we had no rules about sweets. My mom was a sweetaholic too. We were poor and on a very tight budget, but the one thing we could afford for fun was food. Whenever we did something special, it was centered around food: and really good deserts.
I will never forget standing around the kitchen aid watching butter cream together with sugar and dipping my finger in right before she put in the egg; while it was still safe.
sigh. the love.
Not surprisingly, I had a bit of a weight problem as a child. But I learned to manage it. I got on “Deal a Meal” at age 10 and smuggled my little food cards in to fourth grade so none of the other kids would know I was on a diet. After all, 120lbs in fourth grade was kind of a lot, and I figured I should do something about it. I read every article in Seventeen magazine about how to loose weight, and I finally did through exercise.
Then it really happened. After a dark and dreary move to the pacific northwest from California, I discovered that there was this amazing concoction you could have that woke you up, and tasted wonderful: the Mocha. Armed with $20 a week for lunch money and a coffee stand at every intersection (this was before they all started to make coffee in their underwear), I became a full fledged caffine adict. It was perfectly logical for me to eat a mocha for breakfast since it was %90 milk. This didn’t create blood sugar spikes at all in my 14 year old body. Really.
coffee + chocolate + whipped cream = I really don’t mind that class starts at 7:20 am.
Thus began the slow death of my will power.
In college, this pattern continued with terrible vigor. I couldn’t afford to spend much money on food, and I worked at Starbucks so any drink I got while I worked was free. So if I needed to eat while I wasn’t at work, I bought a slim fast (in a 4 year attempt at losing 15lbs), and while at work, I “ate” mochas and frappuccinos, and the all too abundant cookie samples. When I say sample, I mean 2 very large cookies over the course of a shift that I would cut up and “sample” to customers, but end up eating all between myself and the other workers.