December, unsweetened, No. 13

12/21: Visions of sugarplums

This blog chronicles the author's attempt to endure the month of December, 2019, without eating sugary foods or drinks.

It finally happened. It was yesterday, December 23, which is usually when it happens.

Co-workers, friends, and neighbors you barely even wave to throughout the year all seem to give holiday gifts to other co-workers, friends and neighbors two days before Christmas. Typically, such gifts fall under one of three categories--alcohol, candles and, of course, confections.

At this point in my life, I've gained a reputation as someone who most appreciates gifts of the latter variety. I've been told my eyes literally light up at the sight of sweets, so I'm usually on the receiving end of all sorts of treats. This December 23 was no exception.

First, a friend's mother handed me a one-gallon baggie full of homemade chocolate chip and sugar cookies. Must have been a couple dozen in there. Holly's co-worker Barb, as is her annual tradition, makes and hands out fudge. It's the kind of fudge you don't just eat; you want to have a meaningful relationship with it.

Then again, there is the array of gifts that arrive at offices for staff members to share. These are almost always in the confection category, usually cookies or candies that can be shared among employees, unlike a bottle of brandy or a candle.

Often, there are so many tins of cookies and boxes of chocolates given as office gifts that they're offered to anyone who walks in the door for the next few weeks. Finally, when it becomes clear no one is going to eat the last broken cookie with the hardened raspberry jam, or the last lemon-cream chocolate, they'll eventually find their way into the trash.

For someone trying to eliminate sweet treats from his holiday diet, the couple of days right before Christmas present the greatest challenge of all. For the first time, last night, I had a nightmare that reflected my frustration.

I was at a holiday house party that was winding down. People were saying goodbyes in the living room and I was alone in the kitchen. On one of the counters in the kitchen, well out of sight of anyone else, sat a large, nearly empty plate of cookies.

I spotted a broken piece of a Double-Stuff chocolate-cream Oreo. I quickly convinced myself it was too small to count as a violation of my resolve. I popped it into my mouth and was immediately so stricken with guilt that I spit it into a trash can.

The following morning, my craving for a cookie was nearly overwhelming. I began to rationalize that it would be rude of me not to eat the sweet holiday gifts I'd been given. I wouldn't want to be rude, would I?

Nevertheless, I remained strong. Holly offered to freeze the cookies, fudge and whatever else tempted my sweet tooth, until January 2 when my self-imposed unsweetened holidays would be over. Right now, the day before Christmas, visions of sugarplums and Double Stuf Oreos are dancing in my head. Come January 2, I might just eat every sweet and dessert I can get my mouth on.

Hey, I never committed to a lifestyle change. I committed to go without sugary treats for 32 days. As of tomorrow, I have one week of denial left. So far, the only clear benefit is that I haven't gained the six or seven pounds I usually gain during December and New Year's Day.

Is that enough of a benefit to make me want to break up with Barb's homemade fudge?