mardi, mars 20, 2012
It's just lunch (no, it's not).
It's early in the morning, and I'm a zombie.
I'm almost always one of the undead until around 8:00, when the spell dissipates and I return to the land of the truly alive.
But even a zombie would notice that there's something odd about what's going into Mr. C's lunchbox.
Some redolent, and rather exotic cheese from Trader Joes.
A chopped up apple from the organic food aisle.
Healthy mom is on the march -- winning the battle against junk foodies everywhere.
But wait, wait...what is THAT?
Oh, no, not a juice box? Dr. Lustig, who blames sugary drinks for our national obesity epidemic, would be disgusted.
And what is this? Oh no, not the chocolate chip cookies (and they aren't even homemade -- Michael Pollan would be revolted).
Go away, guys. It's just lunch, for goodness sake.
I realize, however, that the problem isn't Lustig or Pollan.
It's about the internal war raging within me.
A few weeks ago, I began a semi-serious attempt to grapple with my sugar jones.
That doesn't mean going cold turkey, by any means -- taming, not renunciation, is the name of the game.
Problem is, like many of you, I'm inundated by advice about food, and how toxic some of our habits are.
In the case of sugar, I really want to know -- how poisonous is that white stuff?
Isn't it enough to embrace the often weird-tasting whole grain breads? To pay extra for organic? Serve up veggies every night?
(While my vegetarian son loyally struggles through his helpings, my daughter needs to be bribed with ice cream before she will give in -- truth is, I'm not an inspired chef.)
You mean we have to give up COOKIES too?
Good mom -- bad mom. Healthy mother -- lazy mother. I'm so confused.
It may be easier to go back to being a zombie.