diaryofafatamerican

how I gave up a lifetime of sugar

The Beginning

with one comment

When I was 7, nearly 8, my mother married an angry, sadistic pedophile.

In less than a year, my body went from normal to chubby. In that year I also began to sleepwalk, which would amuse my Grandmother, at whose side I’d appear each night. What I remember most clearly is that I would tear my napkin at dinner each night, into tiny flakes of cotton, which I’d twist on my lap. I did the tearing and twisting under the table so I wouldn’t be discovered. My stepfather had a horrible temper and a sick sense of dealing with anything of which he didn’t approve. I was hyper-aware that I did not want to suffer the anger and humiliation he would deal to me, as effortlessly as if he were dealing a hand in Bridge. It was a way of life for him to be an asshole, in other words. He was quite comfortable in doling out the consequences of our perceived unacceptable behavior.

The year of my first significant life change was 1963. I believe the cortisol levels in my body were likely astronomical from the stress of living with this maniac. There had been a lifetime of drama leading up to that year, most of which I managed to suppress and have left in the dark. I have no desire or need to stir up that pot. I’ve heard stories of the years about my natural father and my mother’s marriage to him. Lots and lots of drama is the most succinct way to describe it. Guns, and rocks on prositute’s heads, and shoving women down stairs, and God knows what else. It’s impossible to know what really happened during my first 5-6 years of life but even if the above was an exaggeration, someone’s clearly got a histrionic problem (and it’s ain’t me!).

So, I think the new stepfather was the icing on the cake, so to speak (oh how I miss birthday cake).

I think I gained about 20 lbs at 7-8 years of age, which is a lot of weight for a little child. I was getting chubbier by the day and feeling a dark side of life as well.  This was the year that processed sugar was introduced in our household, as well. We had never been able to afford candy, cookies, or sweets. I’d never seen any up to that year. My stepfather would bring home “Archway” cookies once a month and we’d tear into them like crackheads.

archway molasses cookies

Then, of course, there would be the drama of “what the hell is wrong with you ? You’re all eating all the cookies~!”  But it was worth the drama to get the sugar. I had an insatiable desire for them. I could have eaten them day and night (and did so in my later years).

This is where it all started, as I recall.  And I’ve spent many years in therapy with the image of that house, the landscape, the kitchen, the driveway, everything around that year. I am confident my next 40 years of ill health and anxiety stemmed from that year, that house, that man. It was as if I’d caught a lifelong virus.

Written by Bacce B

July 21, 2012 at 3:21 am

One Response

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  1. Hi, this is a comment.
    To delete a comment, just log in, and view the posts’ comments, there you will have the option to edit or delete them.

    Mr WordPress

    July 21, 2012 at 3:21 am


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