Several years back Katie came up with the horrifying clever idea of dubbing the first month of the year “Sugar Free January.” Before you read any further, I would encourage you to read how this tradition started by referring to my blog post regarding its incarnation. You can find it by clicking here.
Essentially, the theory is that since December is such a month of caloric debauchery and habitual treat-munching, January should be a cleansing month. I’m not going to lie to you. January has never been my favorite month, and it is even less so now. We are currently in a fight, January and I.
In an effort to help me make it through these first few weeks, I thought I would chronicle the experiment in a daily log. I was going to call it a Sugar Log, but that just sounded too delicious, and I was distracted every time I went to write something down; not to mention I drooled excessively on the keyboard and it became unpleasant to type on it. So instead, I just refer to it as My Descent Into Madness: the Autobiography of Ken Craig’s January.
January 1: 9:00 a.m. Woke up feeling fantastic. Enjoyed an egg and toast for breakfast. Actually kind of looking forward to the detoxification and purging sugar from my body. A new healthier, happier me.
January 1: 9:15 a.m. Ransacked house looking for sugar. Checked pantry, fridge, 72-hour kits – even searched hard-to-reach areas for possible overlooked plastic eggs filed with Easter candy from 9 months ago.
January 4: Wept. Like a baby. Felt moody all day. Punished one of my children for “not being funny enough at the dinner table” and sent him to bed. Lethargic. Unshaven. Kicked the dog.
January 5: Realized I don’t own a dog. Wrote apology note to neighbors for kicking their dog. Tied note to brick and threw it through their window.
January 6: Ate entire jar of Sweet Pickles. Contacted lawyer for "false advertising" claim… Wondering where I can locate some Sugar Beets.
January 9: Promised Katie the Sugar Nazi if she let me eat a bowl of ice cream I’d watch Project Runway with her. Nothing doin’.
January 10: Promised Katie if I could eat a package of Hostess Donuts I’d look at the IKEA catalogue with her and pretend we lived in Manhattan and had a 600 square foot apartment. Nope.
January 11: Suggested we celebrate our four-year anniversary of “Sugar Free January” with celebratory cake and ice cream! One cake per person! Vetoed.
January 12: Packed a hobo sack, flung it over my shoulder, started whistling “Pour Some Sugar On Me,” and told Katie I was hitchhiking to The Big Rock Candy Mountain. She tried to convince me there was no such place. (As if I’m going to fall for that Sugar Nazi propaganda!)
January 14: Came back home, listless. I think my body is imploding. Bones weakening. Organs leaking vital fluids. Heart slowing. Breathing shallow. Darkness closing in. Slight headache.
January 15: While hallucinating, tried to eat plastic cupcake in daughter’s toy kitchen. Once hallucinations stopped, tried once more to eat cupcake. Found bag of Ruffles potato chips instead. Ate entire bag. And also the chips.
January 16: Realized this is just going to be one long month of zero happiness. Katie told me to pour myself a big heaping bowl of “Shut the Heck Up.” Poured myself a bowl of raisins instead. That's what happens when you're living under a Sugar Nazi regime!
