I’m an emotional eater, like a lot of folks, and have often turned to a “treat” for comfort during stressful times. With a few health issues lately, and the early stages of a recovery plan, I’ve made drastic changes to my diet. One of these thing was cutting refined sugars, and I’d been doing well–until today. Yesterday, I enjoyed a couple of chocolate hedgehogs, and today a friend brought a dessert tart for lunch, a s’mores tart complete with toasted marshmallow. I certainly wasn’t going to pass that up, and enjoyed it tremendously.
Then, something happened, something between taste buds and gastric juices. My body let me know, in no uncertain terms, that me and sugar were over. So over, that in T-Swift’s parlance, we are never ever getting back together. Ever.
My sweet comfort has bitterly betrayed me, and I don’t forgive easily.


Sweet caress of sugar, lovingly
enveloped by lascivious
tongue and moved to soul centre
warm internal embrace
becomes venomous
oozing toxin
a harpy’s