Sugar is delicious

I recently received an email I thought I'd share with you, which read, sort of (I'm paraphrasing because I'm too lazy to go back and check my email):

Hi Alice! I remember you writing about not eating sugar anymore, and I was wondering, are you still doing that?

Here's my response:

Dear reader: You know what I remember? I remember you thinking you're so great because you get to remind people of stuff they said, like, a year ago, stuff they may or may not be doing anymore because time passes and Snickers still exist, and then I believe I recall you patting yourself on the back because of that, and then laughing your stupid laugh and all your friends thinking, "God, she sounds so dumb when she laughs like that"  but they're too nice to say so, but it's true. Ha, ha! Top THAT!

She then replied:

I'm confused. Why are you so upset with me? It was an honest question. I was just wondering if you were still doing that. And just so you know, my laugh sounds like thousands of tiny crystal bells, tinkling in heaven. I record my laughs for friends, for whenever they're feeling bereft. I got paid to laugh in a studio audience until the producers realized that my laugh was so transportingly beautiful that it brought the entire production to a halt, while everyone stared at me in reverent silence, just taking in my ineffable peals and whatever.

My reply:

You said tinkling! TINKLING! Boy, are you a dummy.

She replied:


And I said:


And she replied:

I'm beginning to suspect that you fell off the sugar-wagon. Is that what you're trying to tell me, Ms. Bradley?

And I was all:


And then she was like:

There, now. Was that so hard?

And I said:

No. I'm sorry. I'm glad you have a pretty laugh. I...I'm just filled with shame. It's so stupid of me! The one thing that made me feel the best I have ever felt in my life was giving up sugar, and now here I am one year later cramming fun-sized Halloween leftovers into my mouth and crying and staring in horror at my acne and wondering why my pants don't fit. You're not the dummy. I am. I am the dummy. The dumb dummy who likes chocolate too much.

Then she didn't reply, probably out of disgust, or pity, or a potent combination of the two.

It's true, readers. I didn't just fall off the sugar wagon--I catapulted myself off of it and landed in a field of candy corn. And then I ate that field.

I thought you should know.

I will now strive for what the reasonable, intelligent people call "moderation." We'll see how that goes.