The only sugar picture I have is of my wedding cake, which I used last post, so here's a not-sugar picture of the cog railway tracks going up Pikes Peak.

The only sugar picture I have is of my wedding cake, which I used last post, so here’s a not-sugar picture of the cog railway tracks going up Pikes Peak.

Here’s another post about sugar. Because… it’s sugar. And it’s delicious.

I have a sugar addiction. It’s serious business. It leads to overindulgence of sugar, feeling miserable, and an inability to lose pregnancy weight even when your baby is 3 1/2 months old. I realize that it does, actually, lead to more serious issues, so I’m really making an effort to eat less sugar.

I’ve picked out 14 special occasions each year and have decided that I’ll only eat sugar on those special occasions. A few are clustered close together, like Christmas and New Years, but mostly they’re spread out about 2-4 weeks apart. Mothers Day is one of those special occasions, especially this year since it was my first Mothers Day as a mother.

I planned my special occasion sugar cutback thing two weeks ago. So, until yesterday, I had successfully not eaten any sweets for two weeks. That was a pretty major accomplishment for me, since before that, I’d been finding it hard not to eat sugar three times a week.

I went to a brunch yesterday with my entire Colorado family. My mom, dad, two brothers, and the wife and two teenage sons of one of my brothers. And my husband and baby, of course. My brothers are big guys, partly just built large and partly a little overweight. My family, in general, struggles with weight issues. However, none of us are fat. Just… struggling with our weight a little bit. All the time. Even when one of us manages to get to our ideal weight.

My first plate at brunch (because this was a buffet brunch at a fancy hotel) was just fruit and roasted vegetables. Not bad. My second plate was a couple pieces of bacon and a couple slices of lamb. I’m also trying to reduce my bacon intake because there is pretty much nothing healthy about bacon, but I hardly ever eat it, so I’m not as worried about that.

My third plate was… dessert. An entire plate full of fancy desserts. A slice of coconut cake, a slice of tiramisu, a mini lemon tart, a little white chocolate cup shaped like a flower pot (for some reason) filled with cinnamon mousse, a slice of vanilla cake with a strawberry on top (which wasn’t very good, sadly), a too-sweet chocolate square thing that I didn’t finish, and two little tiny petite fours, one chocolate and one red velvet.

I told you, I have a problem.

But again, it was a special occasion. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to exercise some moderation on these special occasions and eat like… A piece of cake instead of SIX pieces of cake, but for now just eating sweets less often is going to have to do it.

Making me feel considerably less worse about my dessert plate was the fact that every single person at my table except my dad also got a full dessert plate, even my sister-in-law and her sons, who don’t have the same struggles with weight gain that my immediately family does. Oh, and my husband, who weighs like 10 pounds less than me right now. He got a dessert plate, too. So that made it okay. Even though I finished his last piece of cake….

Honestly, all of those desserts probably equaled slightly more than two standard-sized pieces of cake, because they were all mini. I don’t actually feel too bad about how much I ate, it just looked a little ridiculous and piggy seeing all of those crammed onto one plate. And it was a dinner plate, too. I saw the dessert plates by the desserts and was just like “Yeah that’s not going to cut it. I need a BIG plate.” Every member of my family also used a big plate, so at least I’m not alone in my struggle.

I went to a coffee shop with my mom a few years ago, back when sugar packets were first being replaced by those little sugar tubes. No one had really seen those, so there was some confusion about what they were. We were by the cream and sugar table, and this German guy was there looking at everything with a pretty confused look on his face. He picked up a sugar tube, looked at my mom, and went “Shoogah?” in his German accent.

So for a while after that, my mom and I always said “Shooooooogah?” instead of just saying “sugar,” and I told my husband about it so now we always say “SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGAH?” in a really stupid high voice even though I’m pretty sure that guy sounded nothing like that, and we’ve made it so ridiculous over the years that I can’t remember if the guy even really said “Shoogah” or if it was just a slight variant on “sugar” and we wanted to find it hilarious so we did, and then we spent years twisting it into something even more hilarious because we’re just kind of dumb and enjoy things like that.

Anyway, sugar. Shoogah. Whatever you want to call it. It’s delicious, but I’m trying to cut back. Mothers Day is over, so no more sugar until Memorial Day. And I will try not to inhale an entire sheet cake or a tub of ice cream or a trough full of pure sugar packets when that time comes. Maybe like… a pint of coconut milk ice cream or one of those fancy tarts from Whole Foods, or something.



One response to “Shoogah?

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