all you need is cake, i mean love

This is how I would feel right now if someone gave me a cake.

I have the answer to every riddle, the solution to all issues, the antidote for any poison, and the plan for world peace.

It is eat more cake.

Every thing would be better if we just all ate more cake.

Let them eat cake.

Cake...............................

Not really of course.  But this is what I lamented to Dave last night.  I started my carbohydrate detox on Saturday and it was Day Four.  It wasn't that I missed cake that badly.  (Although I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it as I drove past Gigi's Cupcakes on Saturday.)

The withdrawal symptoms came in the form of virulent anxiety that grabbed me by the throat the moment I woke up that morning.  I couldn't even tell you what I was worried about.  It's nearly impossible to explain to someone who hasn't experienced it.  It is a purely physical response.  It's almost like I've forgotten what I was worrying about so I try not to remember but the physical side effects remain.  I feel tired and jumpy with a sparky rumbling in the pit of my stomach that sends nervous tentacles into my back and thighs.  It's as if somehow all my nerve endings were open and exposed and I couldn't even tell you why.

I spent the day trying not to remember why I was anxious.  Do you know how difficult it is to keep something forgotten?  It's a funny trick of nature how we can struggle for a wanted memory but the bad ones creep back up to the front of our minds.

Eventually, I lose my battle of forgetfulness and my brain just assigns something to the emotion that is churning.  Sometimes I imagine some little administrator like Radar from MASH desperately searching the filing cabinets of my mind trying to find something, anything to match up with the signals my body is sending in.

It's exhausting.  The worry, the sick feelings, the trying hard to not remember, and finally the attached anxiety my brain has eventually chosen to pull up.  By the end of the day, I lay on the couch with Dave while Katelyn babbled in her highchair eating mangoes.

"I'm so anxious and cake would make it better.  Just one big cake.  I could eat is so fast and the fear would just go away and I would be so happy."

Dave carefully and nervously explained that I would not be happy on Saturday when I had to weigh myself and share the stats.  I'm sure he secretly dreads these Catch-22 situations I put him in all the time.  One the one hand, if he runs over to Target and buys me that cake, he is not being supportive of my weight loss goals.  He would be an enabler.  One the other, if he tries to help me stick to my diet, he is helpless with my anxieties and worse, admitting that I should not be eating cake because I am overweight.  It would be a sin of omission.  I could see the wheels of his mind turning quickly as he tried to tip toe around the minefield I had just set up for him.

I knew he was right though so I got up and fixed a carb free dinner.  I have faith in my plan.  I really do.  In time, I will find other more productive coping mechanisms.  I can find endorphins hiding under the treadmills of the gym if I look carefully.  In a week, I will feel settled and healthier and all will be well again.  I will wonder why I was complaining so much.

But for now somebody please, please just get me some cake.