So let me tell you about my recent foray into bad behavior. I have not had a donut for 27 months now. Those who know me know why, but here’s a brief recap.
After the diabetes diagnosis, donuts were one of the main personal culprits that I needed to swear off. Not cut back, and have once in a while, but cut out completely.
I am something like an alcoholic who cannot tolerate one beer or glass of wine. Such an infraction most likely would open the door to going back to excess.
Well, that is the chocolate donut for me. After more than two years of successful abstinence, I began the tentative mental preparation for possibly breaking the streak just once, just because.
My recent birthday seemed like the appropriate time to make this attempt. So on the day after, Saturday morning, Carol and I went out. It always helps to enlist someone else to be complicit in your crime, and she was a more than willing participant. After all, it’s donuts.
So we got to my favorite place, walked in and found out that, of all the donuts they had ran out of, they ran out of raised chocolate. It’s the only one in my mind I could allow.
It may seem strange, but we walked out and went to another place nearby. They had that type, but they don’t taste the same. My favorite Folsom place has a particular taste that reminds me of Baltimore. Still, I ate one. Okay, I can’t lie – two.
Have you ever done something bad, or reluctantly, and after you did it realized how much of a disappointment it was? That was me sitting there on Saturday morning breaking my 27-month no-donut streak.
It was as if I asked, “Why? Why did I just do that?” The positive thing about the entire experience is this: it was probably good that the foray into diabetes land was so negative for me. Had it been good, it might have been a temptation for future tries.
As it is, because of the disappointment, I can tell you with confidence that there are no donuts in my future. And in the long run that’s a good thing, for me.
I have a friend with diabetes who eats donuts and keeps it under. Good for him; go for it. Eat one, or two, for me.
Tom Rupp is a resident of Folsom and a weekly columnist in the Folsom Telegraph. You can reach him at firstname.lastname@example.org.