I had several “run-ins” with this same Sister who wanted everyone in the house to hide any candy and on one occasion it involved a cousin to candy, cookies. I was asked by the other Sisters in my small group living situation to bring home some of the Girl Scout cookies from my stash which I kept in my closet at school. This was the time I was teaching sixth grade and also assisting in Girl Scout leading.

 

Since we have referred to sugar as a drug which is anything that changes the physical or emotional composition of an individual. I was a bit like a drug dealer selling cookies out of my classroom closet. This turned out to be ideal for all of us. 

 

The kids and their families had easy access to the Girl Scout cookies they otherwise wouldn't, as they were located in a backwoods rural area. We were getting money for our Girl Scout troop to enable them to participate in some nice trips. There was a trip scheduled for Nantucket Island and later to New York City.   

 

As requested by my religious Sisters, I brought home several boxes of different flavored cookies . Our entry into the house was through the basement. Remembering the mandate by Joan to keep any candy or sweets out of her view, I left them in the basement on a shelf. 

 

I was very happy to oblige. I knew what would happen if I brought them upstairs.  There’d be none left for the rest of the Sisters. I didn’t think of the cookies again, primarily because I didn’t eat very many things containing white sugar anymore. No one specifically requested the cookies at any time so they remained in the basement.      

 

Something must have clicked in Joan’s head as she remembered I was supposed to have delivered boxes of Girl Scout cookies to our house from my supply at school.  She immediately verbally attacked me,  accusing me of hiding the cookies from her. Something must have snapped in my head.  

 

Smoldering from being accused of hiding the cookies from Joan, I stormed down the cellar stairs, grabbed two boxes, and brought them upstairs. I was one of the best ball throwers in high school. Those high school days flashed back as I  threw the two boxes across the long kitchen floor.  After they landed near her feet, Joan stared at me with disgust.

 

She was lucky I didn’t carry out my next fantasy. I pictured myself stomping over toward the two boxes, already beginning to be broken into cracked cookies. That wasn't enough of a satisfaction. I planned to do a run and high jump onto both boxes until they were two boxes of Girl Scout cookie dust.   

 

My therapist told me that for the most part, in the history of the world, many fights have involved food. I have observed Religious Life is nothing more than a microcosm of the world.

 

******* 

 

 I mentioned earlier I was avoiding white sugar. In the 70's I attended a lecture about the difference between white sugar and raw sugar which is brown. We learned the reason raw sugar is nonaddictive is because it is brown. The white sugar is bleached and something in the bleach they use becomes addictive. I found someone could make me a plate of cookies with raw sugar and I might take one, whereas with white sugar cookies, I would have at least two, possibly going back for a third.

 

You might wonder how a sugar addict like me tolerated the lack of white sugar. I discovered the local natural food store had a good variety of raw sugar or non-sugar tastees. I was especially drawn to a satisfactory confection, a mimic of a Snickers bar. Snickers was one of my favorite white sugar candies. This raw sugar invention tasted like Snickers made out of raw sugar.  I was quite satisfied for about 2 years. 

 

******

 

My downfall occurred unexpectedly. I was still going strong with my routine of stopping at the Natural Food store on my mile walk home from teaching school.  I call up your memory of my fellow who helped me when I dropped the knife and split my big toe open, trying to loosen the too-frozen ice cream. 

 

 In the midst of a romantic environment, my toe was gushing and I couldn't figure out how to make a butterfly band-aid. Frantically searching the bathroom cupboard, attempting to be as unobtrusive as possible, I found none. My fellow, whom you may remember, knew how to tape up my gushing toe because he was a wood carver. 

 

He explained the whole process. "When one of my creatures is in danger of having a toe cracking and breaking off, I tape it this way."  He mended my toe with the same procedure. His creatures may not have been losing blood, but he knew how to stop mine perfectly. 

 

My dear fellow had no idea I had sworn off white sugar. He was always thoughtful when he visited. We had what is known as a long-distance relationship.  We lived an hour away from each other.

 

All I could think of was oof when he brought me a giant piece of chocolate fudge and suggested we have a little piece of it together.    

 

How do you tell someone in a romantic moment you don't eat chocolate, you don't eat fudge and you don't eat white sugar when he had gifted you with such decadence? I did not tell him any such thing and therefore I began eating white sugar again. I never went at it as venomously as I previously did. 

 

Chocolate used to be my chosen addiction. I hardly have any chocolate anymore.  I almost don't even like it. It's a very strange thing having the knowledge and the experience of no white sugar. As long as you can find some satisfactory raw sugar substitute for that white sugar, you will be amazed at how well you do. 

 

I still have white sugar but in such much smaller portions, I amaze myself. For example, instead of a whole donut, I break it in half and I might have a third of one of the halves.  Also instead of eating a large peanut butter cookie, I have just a small triangle of it. I find all I need is a little taste of any of that.