I've given up sugar. The kind you find in a bowl or on a doughnut. (oh no, not doughnuts!) The kind you find in cookies and sodas and pastries and pies. And puddings. I will no longer plop heaping teaspoonsful of white granules into my tea or onto my cereal. I will forbid the creampuff, napolean or cinnamon roll and I will eschew the bearclaw. Ice cream and milk shakes will not again benumb my tongue. If it comes from the cane, I can't. I will not, however, forbid the sugars disguised as wine or scotch. Wine is derived from grapes and scotch from grain and secret ingredients placed there by Highlanders in a successful attempt to make New England Americans buy plaid. Wine and scotch are in their essence a fruit and a vegetable. In other words, necessities and therefore exempt from my list.
Lest you think I jest or will waver in my resolve to rid myself of lemon meringue and its evil cousins, I will now submit a partial list of other things I have successfully given up.
I have given up running fast. Or far. I have given up touching my toes on a regular basis. I have given up jumping up, down or over and I only skip when I feel pretty. I have given up most of my teeth and brown hair. I have given up playing baseball, football or any sport that requires exertion with the exception of basketball, the half court variety. I have given up slam dunking. Okay that's a lie. I have given up hitting a golf ball over 220 yards. I have given up a strong back, good knees and better than twenty twenty vision. I have given up reading without glasses and walking without a limp. Oh and I gave up cigarettes. A long time ago.
So you see this sugar thing should be apiece of cake. Cake? Cake? Hell no I'm not giving up cake.
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