I like cookies. "So what" is what I'd say if someone were to say that to me. "So eat them." The problem is, sugar and other carbs don't sit well with me. They make me fat and unhappy, and I get all jittery and dizzy and want to lay down. Or break something.
I first discovered I had a problem with hypoglycemia when I was at an antique store looking for a tea cup (oddly, I collect tea cups). Anyway, I has holding a cup and saucer from Czechoslovakia, and my hands were shaking because I hadn't eaten in a while. The cup was rattling against the saucer, and I couldn't stop it. I bought the thing and got in my car, thinking that if I could just grab a sandwich from a drive thru quickly, then I'd be OK. I backed the car into a telephone pole on the way out of the parking lot, and then I managed to cross the street and get a sandwich. Within fifteen minutes, I was steady.
My doctor suggested I might be hypoglycemic, and he put me on a high-protein, low-carbohydrate diet. Voila, I lost forty pounds, and I stopped with the dizziness and shakiness. I say "voila" as if it was magic and instant, but it really took months of work and discipline.
At the time I worked with a guy who was on the same eating plan, and we walked around the office claiming to be Atkins Disciples. People would see us in our white shirts and black ties, and they would lock their doors and pretend not to be home. Every morning, the co-worker and I would recite a mantra: "no candy. no cookies. no candy. no cookies."
Years later, I have lost the discipline and the co-worker, and I have abandoned the mantra. I like cookies. I also like wine and chocolate and cheesecake and creme brulee and bread from Macaroni Grill dipped in peppered olive oil. Sometimes I like the simple pleasure of a rustic pasta meal. Sometimes I like to just eat the food that is in front of me and not feel like I need to be a chemist to put together a healthful meal. Other people can eat the white food, why can't I? White food seems to be the culprit.
It's a tough time of year to not be able to eat white food, like the last Christmas cookie on the plate--it's a Santa face with chocolate chips for eyes. Last night, I ate the Santa face that was blind because Daughter #2 had eaten the eyes. Daughter #2 said I shouldn't discriminate against the disabled, so I chose the blind one, but I felt bad afterwards. I shouldn't have eaten either one, the blind or the seeing one.
But I like cookies.