Speechless

I had Thursday's post figured out before Thursday even got here. Because Thursday was November 8th, making it the first day of the END of the sugar fast. Thursday was also my first day of working at a 3-day Christmas boutique where I happen to know that they serve fresh, homemade cinnamon rolls daily. The plan was to eat my cinnamon roll, experience enlightenment, attend parent/teacher conference, then stop by my friend Ali's house for our official end of the sugar fast party where eating chocolate cake, cotton candy, and root beer floats was no longer a crime punishable by shaming from peers. I planned on taking pictures of our wide-eyed Wonka-like experience and posting them here under the title: "Whoever said nothing tastes as good as thin feels has never had Patti's cinnamon rolls."

So you can imagine my astonishment when not only did I NOT experience enlightenment at the first bite of the cinnamon roll, but it made. me. sick. As in, when I got to the party I still felt so gross that I could not even fake a longing for a Reese's peanut butter cup. I choked down a few bites of ice cream just to try and redeem a little of the pleasure I used to know. I honestly don't know what to make of it. I fear this situation will somehow change me into an organic-eating-Omega-3-popping-birkenstock-wearing-cabbage-chewing-yoga-seeking-*gasp* "say you're not eating FRENCH FRIES!!" girl, because I prefer making fun of those kinds of people. On the other hand, my little experiment has witnessed changes on the scale and differences in the way I feel.

Then again, I hear the island of Kauai has the best shaved ice EVER. And you can get it served with cream poured on top, which sounds like an idea worthy of some kind of solid gold trophy in the shape of a cone. Well then, maybe there is hope after all....