Bread Hangover

Y'all are gonna hate hearing about my pre-diabetes pretty soon, but that is okay. I hate having it.

So yeah. Bread is now my bourbon. 

(Not really, but it is a nice sentence.)

I love bread, but it doesn't love me.

Jesus said, "I am the bread of life. He who comes to me shall not hunger. He who comes to me shall not thirst."

Jesus did not say "I am the cauliflower crust of life." No. It is bread, baby, bread.

I love muffins. 

I love scones. 

I love cake. 

I love soft and gooey chocolate chip cookies. 

I love to bake. Let clarify -- I love to bake but not cook. "Cook" is for dinner. "Bake" is for breakfast and dessert. "Cook" is an entire meal. "Bake" is just the yummy parts.

I love biscuits. 

I love brownies. 

I love croissants.

This is not to diminish those who suffer from the disease of alcoholism, but I get it. Not only do I have to avoid foods that can jack my blood sugar, I have to avoid one of my favorite hobbies. I feel like a bartender who not only needs to stop drinking, but also needs to find another job. What am I going to do? I just got a new convention oven and the only reason you need a convention oven is to bake. I need to find new recipes. Sure, I've been roasting a lot of vegetables lately but it is not the same.

I love brioche.

I love Top Pot doughnuts.

I've heard that many alcoholics remember their last drink (or maybe they don't if they were too blotto.) Do I remember my last treat made of flour, sugar and butter? Do I remember the last cake? I remember going off flour and sugar for a few weeks, and then I had avocado toast that pushed me over the edge. I was repulsed by avocado toast--the healthiest kind of carb treat, if there is such a thing. Damn it was good but afterwards I had a bread hangover. 

I love bread pudding.

I love Tom Douglas' doughnuts with sides of jam and vanilla mascarpone.

I love beignets.

I love wheat toast with scrambled eggs.

I get the peer pressure, the social aspect of eating bread. I went to dinner with a friend last night and she suggested we go to a Greek place with awesome french fries (I need another post dedicated to potatoes and popcorn) and pita sandwiches. I avoided the Lamb Souvlaki plate which came with cheesecake for dessert. After the pita sandwich and fries, I had a bread hangover. I felt bloated and gross and I fell asleep by 9:30 at night. I felt like shit this morning, emotionally and physically. Why did I do that to myself? Why didn't I just say no? My friend wouldn't have cared what I ate. She also wasn't going to have a bread hangover like I did. In twelve-step programs, they say "Focus on yourself." Now I get it. Nelly can eat all of the bread and she's fine. I can't. I need to take care of me. 

I also get the concept of eating bread alone. Last night, I plowed through some rhubarb crumble after my pita and french fry fiasco, as if more carbs would make me feel better. While rhubarb crumble isn't technically bread, it is in the flour family. I had rhubarb crumble after lunch today. I had a meeting at 2:00 that I could barely get through because was feel my post lunch slump. 

The funny thing is that now that I have been eating better for a month, when I fall off the wagon, I feel like crap. I wonder if this is what drinkers feel like when they have a relapse.