I just fell off the paleo wagon.
Well and truly.
It was not just a slight tip; it was a fully fledged stumble, tumble, fall down, unmoving lying on the floured ground in a sugar coma.
I am not even sure why.
Or how.
But now I am sitting here stomach popping over my jeans, head cloudy with a sugar hangover, having heart palpitations, drooping eyelids and breaking out into a sweat even thought its cold and raining outside.
I am bitterly disappointed with myself and angry all at once.
I know the heart palpitations I am experiencing are just a result of my mental anxiety and not really a physical display of the fact I just ate gluten and grains for the first time in a long time. And I know the sweats is a physical reaction to the mental anguish that of course I just ate sugar too. I have a headache, but of course that might just be mental also.
I’m lying on the floor, and the red horned wearing version of me has pinned me to the ground with her pitchfork, grin of achievement plastered all over her face.
It was cake I bowed to. Cake!
Cake that I never used to eat, was never interested in, never seduced by.
And not just one piece either…
Oh how I stuffed myself to the surprise, laughter and aghast expressions of those around me as they watched me go back for seconds. Self control gone, restraint not a word that looked familiar, I was on a rampage and nobody could stop me.
I started small.
A protein gluten free and sugar free muffin that had grains and fruit I overlooked hoping it would subside the sudden thirst that had awoke inside of me.
It didn’t.
So I cut a very small slither of Julie’s coconut and lemon tea cake, my knife slicing through the moist goodness and knowing immediately her country baking skills would be second to none. I ate that treasure and wished I didn’t because it was too good. And I knew then also, it would be better than the cinnamon tea cake – caster sugar and self raising flour included – that I had made.
But just because I wasn’t sure, I cut a slice of that too and ate half of it. Memories of my childhood rushed back to me in that cinnamon mouthful that was exactly like the sugar filled cinnamon donuts I used to heat up and eat for breakfast. What started as a treat became a daily ritual until I ate so many of them for many years after I couldn’t stand to eat cinnamon. But now it was ok, and the memory was back and sent shivers running down my spine.
Perhaps to escape the sweet memory or maybe because I had opened a door that had stayed closed for too long and was having a slight – ok epic – relapse of my former self, I immediately cut half a chocolate brownie and ate it, replacing the cinnamon taste with the beautiful chocolate, nutty sensation.
It was amazing.
I have always claimed not to be a cake lover, and I’m not (usually) but brownies are another thing, and this one had me hook line and sinker.
Oh lord, what have I done?!
By now there was no turning back. I was unstoppable. Not only did I not recognize myself, others around me, many whom have NEVER seen me eat cake, did not recognize me either. Those who knew I very rarely would indulge looked at me with surprise, but silent glee – was I the once again recognizable, reckless Stacey they knew?
In truth, I think a few were silently happy at my failure.
The brownie not only tasted amazing, it also looked better than my muffins, which were also chocolate hazelnut brownie muffins.
And because, like my cinnamon tea cake, the muffins were a new recipe, I cut one in half and promptly ate that too. I tried to tell myself it was to check they were ok, to compare them to the brownie I had just eaten, because I needed to be sure.
I was kidding myself. I had no good reason to eat that thing apart from the fact I wanted to. And when last night I had been cooking them three of the muffins refused to budge from the pan and I had to scoop them out and leave them behind, I had already tasted the mixture then. I knew they were good (but not as good as the brownie brownie).
So let’s just recap.
- 1 x protein & fruit mini muffin (this was gluten and sugar free, and where I was meant to start and end in the eating process)
- 1 x half chocolate brownie
- 1 x half chocolate hazelnut brownie muffin
- 1 x small slither lemon and coconut tea cake
- 1 x half piece of cinnamon tea cake
In the end I needed to leave the group crowded around the table, cakes piled high, fruit barely touched and return to my desk in case I went back for more.
It’s no wonder I felt ill.
And morbidly ashamed.
Every now and then someone pokes their head over the partition and smiles knowingly at me, or mimic’s throwing up, or offers me another piece of cake just to stir the pot even further.
I want to throw my spinach and blueberry smoothie all over them and watch it ooze over their smirking faces turning them purple like the awful gum chewing child Violet in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.
I can’t even stomach my smoothie at the moment and am trying to dilute this sugar swell by drinking bottle after bottle of water.
I need to put it out of my head and move on. To forget about this low point and pick myself up and dust the icing sugar off my pants (literally there is some there) but half of me is still too ashamed and the other half of me knows there is more cake and if I have failed already and eaten so badly already, then surely it’s ok to have just one more piece?
Later, much later, when I have packed up the remaining cake (thanks guys, you had to eat everyone else’s and leave mine!?) and gone home I sms my ‘trying very hard’ sister in law.
I ate cake. A full piece and half a muffin and a quarter of a brownie. Fail.
Her reply did pep me up a little –
I’ve stuffed my face with cake pops and lemon slice all day. Life.
I don’t even know what cake pops are, but the entire thing made me feel much better. She is right, it is life. So I ate badly one day, its only one day. And the cake was nice.
Tomorrow is another day, and cake is not on the menu.
The Primal Fear 