A tad dramatic, but stick with me on this…
Food is my go-to choice for emotional comfort—happy or sad mind you—it can mend my most broken of hearts and reward my greatest triumphs. There is one specific little food-type vixen, however, that can set my heart a flutter like no other.
Sugar. You saucy little minx…
Whether she’s hiding in a carb-loaded macaroni and cheese, or spooned into a cup of tea in its most refined, granular state, I love all her forms. Especially when I’ve had a bad day (I told you I was going somewhere with this).
I started back to work this week after a two-week, much deserved, I-have-to-get-out-of-this-office-before-I-curl-up-in-the-fetal-position-under-my-desk vacation. Why on earth do I ever think that I’ll be able to ease back into work with a stroll rather than a sprint? I never learn.
Yesterday and today were both filled with chaos-induced stress and ended with me in the office this evening until 7 pm. “Why, Victoria, why?”, you may be asking yourself, “why would you stay in the office so late?”. Some people tell me I’m crazy, others tell me I’m dedicated to my job. I think I fall somewhere square in the middle…but I digress.
As I was packing up to leave the office, my mind was only on one thing – FOOD! Ahhhh…COMFORT!! Come to mama!! Time Horton’s for donuts? McDonald’s for a Quarter Pounder?? No..No…Cinnabon!!! Sweet, sugary goodness all wrapped up in a convenient to-go box—they think of everything those Cinnabon people—and as luck would have it there is a Cinnabon on the way home at the train station. Hallelujah!!
I made my way out of the -38°C polar vortex (thank you for teaching me that term this morning Al Roker) and into the warm train station. So, here’s the thing about Cinnabon—it has a very obvious aroma. Some might call it a dream-like state for your nostrils. This sugar and cinnamon bouquet, however, does not stay contained within the walls of Cinnabon itself-no, no, no, no, no, no-it wafts throughout the entire train station, and proceeds to slap you in the face as you walk through the doors. So even if you wanted to avoid it, there’s not a polar vortex’s chance in hell that’s going to happen.
Check the clock, 15 minutes until my train departs…check the Cinnabon, no line-up…at last the fates are aligned, destiny has taken my hand, mercy is for the weak!!! (ok, I may have watched the Karate Kid over the weekend, ignore that last part). I meander over and stand in front of the Cinnabon, coming face-to-face with my arch nemesis. It’s now-or-never, do-or-die time. As I stand there, it suddenly occurs to me that I don’t have to do this. I’ve been eating well this week, I’m back to the gym tomorrow morning, why do I want to ruin this? Why, Victoria WHY???
The truth is I don’t want to ruin this, I was just momentarily blinded by Sugar and her promise of feel-good endorphins and mouth-watering deliciousness. What she always fails to mention though is that the mouth-watering deliciousness quickly turns into an unhappy belly. Oh and those feel-good endorphins? Yeah they get pushed off a cliff by their good friend depressed sugar coma. So what starts out as a rockin’ good time, quickly turns into Victoria laying on the couch moaning “why do I do this to myself?”. Why indeed Victoria, why indeed.
So what do I do?? I’m standing there, 5 minutes left on the clock, unhappy, hungry, and worst of all desperate—and ain’t no one making a good choice when they are desperate. I do a 180, searching for an answer, and behind me lies my salvation—a little sandwich shop. Before I know it I’m standing in front of said shop ordering a turkey and veg on whole grain and a bottle of water. Whole Grain Bread! Vegetables!! Water!!! I have control…I have the POWER!!
Take that Sugar-bitch…there’s a new sheriff in town.
So what started as a completely crazy day and slowly morphed into what could have been a day in which I completely sabotaged myself, turned out ok. Victoria got fed, felt better, and didn’t let good ol’ Sugar get the best of her.
Until me meet again my friend…until we meet again.