My Sweetheart

      I'm not talking about this sweet heart,

...though he and I are approaching the big four-oh together,

...I'm talking about this one, the one that beats in my chest,

...and which almost had an attack the other day when I read a review of a recently published book  excoriating  the evils of sugar.
     According to science writer and diet researcher Gary Taubes in his latest book,

 ... "The Case Against Sugar",

...sugar is not only bad for you, it's terrible for you.  It's as bad as cigarettes.  Even a little tiny bit is bad. Very bad.  According Mr. Taubes, sugar causes obesity, diabetes, hypertension, cancer, metabolic syndrome, a number of degenerate diseases including  Alzheimer's, and turns people into axe-murderers.
     Just kidding about sugar turning people into axe-murderers, though I'd probably turn into one if anyone tried to take my sugar away from me.
     The thing is, I love sweets.  So shoot me in the head. Oh, never mind, all the sugar I eat will probably do it, if Mr. Taubes is telling us true.
       The truth is, I eat sweets every day.  The last time I can remember going for more than a day  without eating any sweets was when I was in  5th grade and gave up eating sweets for Lent,

...which was probably a good thing.  

    And, all right, I could still  stand to lose a couple of pounds.    

     I'm talking about the  two pounds I gained over the holidays and now can't seem to get rid of,

     ...probably because I can't stop eating sweets.
     But then how can I? 
     I was programmed to crave sweets from an early age. I grew up in a home with parents who were fabulous cooks, where every meal was an occasion and no meal complete without dessert.
      Mayhaps my sweetness for sugar runs in the very sap of my family tree.
     It's not that I need a whopping big slice of strawberry cheesecake with whipped cream every day, though I'd gladly eat a whopping big slice of strawberry cheesecake with whipped cream every day, twice a day, even,  if I didn't fear revisiting my 5th grade physique.

     In truth just a quick dip now and then into my stash, which I keep tucked away in the bread box (as is fitting, the staff of life  for me being not bread but sweet treats),  is enough to provide me with my sugar fix in case there's nothing better around to take care of it.

     But when the craving calls, I've got to, just got to, have something sweet.
    When I was in Portland a few weeks ago visiting my sister one of her friends - a vegetarian, anti-sugartarian, and fierce  health-food disciple - informed me that I had an addiction to sugar.
      I did not dispute her but pointed out that even if I did have a sugar addiction it didn't keep me from getting to work on time nor did it have a deleterious effect on my interpersonal relations or my life in general.  Quite the contrary: sugar is the fuel that energizes me, gives me a boost, cheers me up and  incentivizes me, as in:    

..I tell myself that if I just eat this:

...then I'm allowed to have some of this:

...which will help me get through this:

...along with the rest of my day.
     For me a spoonful (or two or ten) of sugar helps the medicine of life go down and makes the sweet times sweeter.
     And it tastes good.
     But now along comes this anti-sugar zealot,

...who looks to me like one of those salty/savory types who doesn't even go for sweets,

...telling me that sugar going to kill me.
     (Sigh). Talk about wasting my flavor.