Randomly, just a few days after Christmas, a box filled with the kinds of sweets that are the absolute worst for you on every level of reality appeared in the house.
I opened it to find several kinds of goodies, all of which I enjoy eating:
In the above photo, we have peanut brittle, a chocolate-bound pecan cluster, peanut butter-and-cornflake balls (I don’t know what those are properly called), a huge white-chocolate coated pretzel, and a chocolate-coated ball of peanut butter.
These are verily ambrosia from the gods.
The chocolate-coated peanut butter is likely the most deadly enemy I will ever encounter. They’re easy to eat, and it’s easy to consume something like ten of them before you realize that your body is going into rejection mode and getting ready to hurl the huge amounts of sugar out itself. After all, that’s basically what it is- sugar with one flavoring coating sugar of another flavoring.
But oh, what a great flavor that is!
Hats off to whomever made these and gave them to my father. I really enjoyed them.
In the South, dessert is a way of life. Exchanging desserts for Christmas is a given. Someone, somewhere, is going to give you something sweet. People make the sweet foods in obscene amounts and give them away as presents. I’m sure this happens in other places, too, but I don’t know if it’s taken quite as seriously.
The only problem will likely be the peanut brittle. Peanut brittle is called that for a reason, and I’m sure my poor teeth would be demolished if I tried to eat it. I shudder to think of one day being an old man only having the capability to gum things down.
This is the sort of thing that absolutely destroys any sense of willpower that I possess. The pattern goes something like this:
“I resolve to stop eating sugar, for lo, sugar is bad unto mine body!”
Then I see a piece of cake.
Then the piece of cake is completely gone, swallowed up into the infinity of my stomach.
Then, the overwhelming amount of sugar I just consumed floods my brain, creating a complete euphoria and reinforcing the idea that what I have just done is the best idea I’ve had all day.
Then the sugar goes from sweet to sickeningly sweet, I crash, and I want to kick myself as I feel my face growing sticky from the sugar oozing out of my pores. I vow again to never consume sugar.
Three hours later, I see a chocolate-coated peanut butter ball, and the entire cycle begins again.
Sometimes, the memory of the disgustingly sweet brain crash returns to me, and I’m able to say, “NO, I shan’t indulge in the evil pleasures of the flesh! Be gone, O vile demonic power known as sugar!” Then I forget all about the sugary treat while carrying around a strange sense of smugness.
More often than not, this isn’t the case.
It’s amazing the way a person can justify their lack of willpower.
“Eating sugar sounds like FUN!”
“Oh, it’s a cultural thing- it’s cultural acceptable to eat sugar, it’s something we do to celebrate.”
“I’m having a bad day, I deserve something sweet to eat.”
“Oh, someone spent hours planning and baking this ENTIRE cake- I can’t let it go to waste, after all!”
The list goes on.
The excuses are plentiful.
My latest and greatest excuse is going to be that I have to eat sweet treats for the sake of writing about them on my blog, and after all, that is true.
Then again, all the other excuses are true, too.