We've had a long run, you and I. Do you remember our first binge back in college? It was the warm AND frozen and so spectacularly perfect ice cream sandwich that was made from scratch? It probably weighed 2 pounds but did that stop me from eating every last crumb? From licking the drippings off my fingers? From ignoring every instinct that said STOP in order to finish it off? If I wasn't hooked before, I was certainly hooked then. There was no going back, and I was happy to tumble into our wild love affair.
Through the good times (In N Out milkshakes) and the bad (doughnut hangovers), I've always stuck by your side. And you've stuck on my hips. What a team! We were perfect for each other.
Sure, there have been occasions when I thought I'd call it quits. I tried to leave you so often, threatening that I'd never take another bite. How long did that last? A day? A week? A pregnancy?
But you always knew those silly pseudo- break-ups would never last long; sooner or later I would come crawling back, begging for your forgiveness and maybe a Twix. I could never stay mad at you very long because you're too damn SWEET. How could something so wonderful be bad? Besides, how else was I supposed to end dinner? Or lunch? Or, let's be honest, breakfast? I certainly wasn't going to take up smoking, so dessert it was and dessert it remained.
Now I'm beginning to wonder what I've been get out of this relationship and I think the correct answer is: NOTHING. Unless you're counting the insulin coursing through my veins, which you shouldn't, because that's ridiculous, the answer is nothing. I have been in an unhealthy, psychologically imbalanced relationship for more than half my life and I have nothing to show for it. Except love handles, which also shouldn't count because that's also ridiculous.
Sugar, my dear, the time has come for us to call it quits for good. Quite honestly, I would be happy if I never saw you again, you good-for-nothing wolf in peanut brittle's clothing. Besides, you should be ashamed of yourself; from what I hear, you've been involved with dozens if not millions of women (and maybe even some men, which I don't bring up because I am making a value judgment (because technically you're gender-neutral and therefore not gay, per se, but even if you were gay, that would be cool, too, because, you know, who am I to judge) but because I'd like to accurately document your infidelity).
You're a liar and a cheater, and I'd like for you to leave. Please, just leave me alone. Forever. Especially around the holidays.
I mean no disrespect. (Even though I sort of do.) If I see you on the street or in a bakery, I might say a quick hello. But we will have no further conversations of substance, do you understand me? I will not linger with you, recalling all our past adventures, wondering if we should just have one more tryst, just to say goodbye OFFICIALLY. It's all small-talk from here on out, and maybe a small chocolate croissant on my birthday.
In case I haven't been perfectly clear, I would like to say it one last time: the way I end dinner now, as most normal people do, is with the last bite. Get out of here, Sugar. You are not welcome.
All the best,
Especially Super Sarah, feeling AWESOME and very super