Several years back Katie came up with the horrifying clever
idea of dubbing the first month of the year “Sugar Free January.” Basically, the theory is that since December
is such a month of caloric debauchery and habitual treat-munching, January
should be a cleansing month.
I’m not going to lie to you. January has never been my
favorite month, and it is even less so now. We are currently in a fight,
January and I.
I mean, in theory I agreed with Katie. And when I say “in
theory,” what I mean is that I don’t really agree with her at all. What she is
essentially saying was, “Since December is a month of happiness, how about
January be a month of NO happiness?”
As a public service announcement, I thought I would
chronicle my experience thus far this year. I call it My Descent Into Madness: the
Autobiography of Ken Craig’s January.
January 1: 9:00 a.m. Woke up feeling fantastic. Enjoyed an
egg and toast for breakfast. Actually kind of looking forward to the
detoxification and purging sugar from my body. A new healthier, happier me.
January 1: 9:15 a.m. Ransacked house looking for sugar.
Checked pantry, fridge, 72-hour kits – even searched hard-to-reach areas for
possible overlooked plastic eggs filed with Easter candy from 9 months ago.
January 2: Wept. Like a baby. Felt moody all day. Punished
one of my children for “not being funny enough at the dinner table” and sent
him to bed. Lethargic. Unshaven. Kicked the dog.
January 3: Realized I don’t own a dog. Wrote apology note to
neighbors for kicking their dog. Tied note to brick and threw it through their
window.
January 4: Ate entire jar of Sweet Pickles. Contacted lawyer
for "false advertising" claim… Wondering where I can locate some
Sugar Beets.
January 5: Promised Katie the Sugar Nazi if she let me eat a
bowl of ice cream I’d watch Downton Abbey with her. Nothing doin’.
January 6: Packed a hobo sack, flung it over my shoulder,
started whistling “Pour Some Sugar On Me,” and told Katie I was hitchhiking to
The Big Rock Candy Mountain. She tried to convince me there was no such place.
(As if I’m going to fall for that Sugar Nazi propaganda!)
January 7: Came back home, listless. I think my body is
imploding. Bones weakening. Organs leaking vital fluids. Heart slowing.
Breathing shallow. Darkness closing in. Slight headache.
January 7: While hallucinating, tried to eat plastic cupcake
in daughter’s toy kitchen. Once hallucinations stopped, tried once more to eat
cupcake. Found bag of Ruffles potato chips instead. Ate entire
bag. And also the chips.
January 7: Realized this is just going to be one long month
of zero happiness. Katie told me to pour myself a big heaping bowl of “Shut the
Heck Up.” Poured myself a bowl of unsalted almonds instead. That's what
happens when you're living under a Sugar Nazi regime!
