Karen thinks I cheated. Fell off the no-sugar wagon. Became an ultra hypocrite.
Seriously, I do not kid: For easily five minutes late yesterday afternoon (after my Stop SUGAR SHOCK! Radio Show), Karen -- my super-capable, ultra-smart, and very friendly assistant (whose blog posts you read here often) -- thought I'd succumbed to the depths of SUGAR SHOCK! (You know, the condition that I always rail against here and warn about in my book SUGAR SHOCK! )
"Shame on you," I'm sure she thought.
You see, Karen spied something that had absolutely no business being in my office! She saw a small chocolate-filled candy bar. That's right, a candy bar!
So yesterday, when she came over to pick up a bunch of packages to mail -- you know, books to give out as raffle prizes, to members of the media and reviewers -- she gets up her nerve.
First, poor Karen gives me this really funny look -- that can only be described as one of disdain and the complete opposite of admiration.
Then, she prepares herself for a confrontation with me. She crinkles her nose, breathes deeply and then quickly, fearfully blurts out:
"Connie, is that a Snickers Bar I see on the floor, below your desk?"
My reply: I laugh with glee. Honest!
"Yes, Karen, that is a Snickers bar. In fact, I'm in possession of not just one little candy bar, but a HUGE bag of tiny Snickers Bars!"
Wait. That's not all!
I then reveal my new, secret stash that I had bought the night before.
Indeed, I have so many candy bars and candies in my office that I could send at least half a dozen people into sugar shock!
I confess: My home office is brimming with candy -- at least six or seven different kinds. (I'll spare you the names -- they're in a plastic Duane Reade bag, with the ends tied into a knot, for now at least.)
Why, you want to know, would the "Ex-Sugar Shrew" and self-described "Sugar Liberator" have a huge horde of candies in her possession?
Karen thinks I cheated. Fell off the no-sugar wagon. Became an ultra hypocrite.
Seriously, I do not kid: For easily five minutes late yesterday afternoon (after my Stop SUGAR SHOCK! Radio Show), Karen -- my super-capable, ultra-smart, and very friendly assistant (whose blog posts you read here often) -- thought I'd succumbed to the depths of SUGAR SHOCK! (You know, the condition that I always rail against here and warn about in my book SUGAR SHOCK! )
"Shame on you," I'm sure she thought.
So yesterday, when she came over to pick up a bunch of packages to mail -- you know, books to give out as raffle prizes, to members of the media and reviewers -- she gets up her nerve.
First, poor Karen gives me this really funny look -- that can only be described as one of disdain and the complete opposite of admiration.
Then, she prepares herself for a confrontation with me. She crinkles her nose, breathes deeply and then quickly, fearfully blurts out:
My reply: I laugh with glee. Honest!
Wait. That's not all!
I then reveal my new, secret stash that I had bought the night before.
Indeed, I have so many candy bars and candies in my office that I could send at least half a dozen people into sugar shock!
I confess: My home office is brimming with candy -- at least six or seven different kinds. (I'll spare you the names -- they're in a plastic Duane Reade bag, with the ends tied into a knot, for now at least.)
Why, you want to know, would the "Ex-Sugar Shrew" and self-described "Sugar Liberator" have a huge horde of candies in her possession?