February 21, 2010
Lent is a magical time a year when we reflect on how awesome Jesus is. It’s also a time, if you are Catholic, or a sadist, to give up something. I was raised Catholic, and every year we’d give up meat. And because my mom wasn’t very creative in the kitchen, we had a whole lot of Hamburger Helper, minus the hamburger.
The idea of giving up something is a way to remind us what Jesus gave up, and sacrificed for us. I don’t consider myself a Catholic anymore, but because I hate being left out of stuff, I wanted to participate in Lent this year, so I thought of the number one most wonderful thing in my life–SUGAR, and then gave it up, for Jesus, and in hopes that my ass would shrink a little, but mainly for Jesus , FOR. FOURTY. DAYS.
At first I thought, this can’t be that bad. Sugar is stupid anyways.
It’s all yummy and delicious, and sparkly, and alluring, but after having too much, it makes you feel fat, and gives you a weird feeling in your stomach, and you regret ever laying eyes on it. I guess you can say, sugar is kind of like those asshole jocks you dated in high school.
Come to think of it, I’m mad at sugar.
But all this anger is making me hungry.
And what do I eat when I’m hungry?
What do I eat when I’m tired?
Confused, surprised, constipated?
Sugar, sugar, sugar.
You get the idea.
And then I realize that everything in my kitchen is loaded and covered in sugar. Well, everything I want to eat, that is…
Pop Tarts, Lucky Charms, homemade cookies, Lemon cake, and Pumpkin bread, M&Ms, Jell-O pudding, yogurt, hot chocolate, ice cream, cupcakes, Mr. Pibb and Red Vines…
Oh, but Sunday.
Sweet, beautiful Sunday.
Sunday is when the Catholics grill up a bitchin’ steak, wrap it in bacon, and serve it with a sausage garnish, because Sundays don’t count in the fourty days, they’re reserved for celebration, and nothing says, “I love Jesus” more than a plate full of warm meat. Catholics can have their steaks dripping in blood, and I can finally eat an entire cheesecake.
One little problem.
It’s Sunday, and I don’t want sugar.
I’m all, meh, sugar, whatever.
This is weird.
I think later, I’m going to have my husband tie me down and force feed me jelly beans.