Sweet Temptations

MY APPETITE FOR SINFUL CONSUMPTION

Is Insatiable … 

When it comes to ingesting All The Wrong Stuff.

I let myself off the hook at the slightest flirtation with decadence.

Enabling temptation with weakness as I inevitably fall prey to desire.

Especially, in the company of Sweets.

“Pastries, nearly any delightful baked concoction save for lip-puckering Lemon Tarts, though I’ll make exceptions … Cannoli’s being my Kryptonite.”

Moderation and I?

Not a chance.

Let’s just say we agree to disagree and don’t always play well together.

PAYING THE PRICE OF TEMPTATION

Goes Beyond The Burden Of Guilt … 

Truth is, I just can’t handle refined sugars in my system any longer.

I doubt I ever could, but that was never enough to curb my gluttonous manoeuvres.

So, torture myself I do.

At the Apex of Lunacy:

“Knowing Something Is Not Good For You, But Consuming It Anyway.”

Again.  Again.  Again.

Repeat.

KETO LOVERS LOOK AWAY

Eating Clean – Monday To Friday(ish) – Espousing A Liveable Diet Eating Plan … 

My Modus Operandi:

“Macro Nutrients Balanced.”

How I roll in and out of the kitchen.

Planning my meals with mindful deliberation of what’s good, healthy and purposeful.

And, eliminating what’s not as well as I can rationalize and faithfully commit.

Methodical – not maniacal – sensible with a dollop of Meh.

AND, ALSO

Blowing It All To Smithereens … 

During a weekend of Cheat Meals and near lack of restraint in All Things Edible.

Spells deep catastrophe.

It hinders my health and fitness goals.

Deflates ambition.

Derails progress.

“Keeps the ‘Dad Bod’ chunked up – primed and ready – for any impromptu ‘Before’ photo shoot requests.”

You never know.

DEFINE CHEAT MEAL?

Eating Anything And Everything Whenever You Like … 

Is not a Cheat Meal.

Its Gluttony.

A Sin.

“So, there’s dealing with the business end of the guilt spectrum.”

Which rarely goes well.

LACTOSE SMACTOSE

Another Pretty Little Problem … 

I tend to ignore

Whenever Häagen-Dazs enters the scene.

Heavenly Hash you’re no better, Nestle

Whiner Disclaimer:

“Lesson never learned by Foolish Swinia as he fails to negotiate clemency with stomach cramps pretzeled in the fetal position.”

Lactose Intolerance, I concede.

You win.

Happy now?

MY DELICATE DISPOSITION

Needs TLC, Respect And Some Hard, Fast And Unbreakable Rules … 

If I’m going to live healthy and beyond an expiry date that I’m not ready to consider.

There’s a lot of Good in Me – in All of Us – when I put Good in Me.

“We Deserve More Of Ourselves By Giving More Goodness To Ourselves.”

Is there a truer axiom than:

“You Are What You Eat?”

Common sense.

Commonly ignored.

SWEET TOOTH

Came To Me In Somewhere In Adulthood …

Why?

No explanation.

Kind of like growing hair where ….

Never mind.

LA DOLCE VITA

The Sweet Life …

Like a box of chocolates, Forest.

Is what you make it.

I’m beyond the Bittersweet stage.

Working on the naturally sweetened (*) stage.

(*) By Self Love.

FUN FACT CONFESSION

Have To Say It … 

“I don’t get Nutella …”

Blasphemous in my Patch of the Planet.

To the Pisani’s of the Italian-descendant communities of Toronto:

Am I the first Heathen to declare …

“I love hazelnuts.  Just not mashed into a spreadable, brownish jam alternative.”

Respect to Ferrero SpA – fine makers of Nutella.

I die for your Ferrero Rocher nuggets.

And equally so, I’m a devout devourer of your competitor’s Baci Perugina.

No debate which is better.

They both are.

JELL-O, YOU THERE?

It’d Likely Be Dessert If I Had A Last Meal … 

Along with a bowl of creamy oatmeal.

Some berries.

And, a thick slice of apple strudel.

CHOCOLATITO

Chocolate Ganache vs. Chocolate Mousse?

Who cares, I’ll eat them both.

At the same time if necessary.

Not to show any favoritism.

RATIONALE FOR MODERATION

Almost Anything In Small Doses … 

Doesn’t hurt.

Or, does it?

Cyanide for instance.

Hate, too.

End argument.

DOLCE FINITO?

No, Never, What?

But, My Darling Sweetness, we’re taking a break.

Had a bit of a situation last weekend after indulging in Galaktobouerko.

Don’t ask me to pronounce it.

I tried and failed horribly.

It’s a disturbingly addictive custard pie made by Greeks.

Transcendent.

EPIPHANY FROM ABOVE

Hmmm, Not So Sure …

For the second time in My Beautiful Life

I was the appreciative recipient of Fecal Matter.

Pigeon or Seagull?

I didn’t get a good luck at the winged assassin – Avian dinosaur – to my little Darwinian evolutionists.

I suspect neighborly Canadian Geese may’ve been involved.

I took it as a sign:

“Eat Crap = Feel Like Crap = Look Like Crap.”

Simple Math.

Crap.  Crap. Crap.

MY FIX

I Don’t Bring Junk Treats Snacks Into My Home … 

Period.

Infused by ironclad determination when I shop for groceries.

Oh, I can spend all day in the candy aisles.

Tasting with my eyes.

Now, on the street?

I’m easy game.

In a restaurant after a meal?

At a cafe with an espresso?

La Bella Macchinetta

As a dinner guest I’m never rude … 

ASPARTAME

We Need To Talk … 

First, I don’t like you.

Anymore.

Never did.

“Nefarious faux sugar, you shameless poseur.”

Second, it’s over.

You lying, deceitful weasel.

I’m breaking up with you.

For good.

Eat Smart, Friends.

 

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite from Pexels

 

 

 

 

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