A Love Letter to Carbs

My Dearest C,

It’s hard to believe it’s only been a few days, for it seems like an eternity. I hope you are well and that you’ll forgive this letter, but I find myself unable to stop thinking about you now that we are apart.

No doubt that statement will anger you;  you will remind me that it was I who left YOU. I cannot deny that this is true. I was the one who decided to walk away after all these years, letting our relationship blow away like so much chaff in the wind. It was 100% me, and I take on 100% of the responsibility. And in doing so, it feels as if I am taking on 100% of the pain and discomfort.

It’s just that all of the reasons I gave you for leaving – how you were bad for me, how you were making me grow in all the wrong ways, how I felt increasingly lethargic and without ambition while we were together – those reasons seem so distant and unreal now.

Honestly, as I sit here in foggy contemplation, exhausted and more lifeless than ever, those reasons seem like one big FAT lie. I’m going nuts!

Had I known how this would go, my sweet, had I known the pain, had I anticipated how empty I would feel ALL OF THE TIME, had I known that I would constantly feel the need to brush my teeth (for some reason), I believe that I would have pledged my undying love for you, committing myself to you for life!

(Sorry, I get carried away these days. It’s not my intention to butter you up.  It’s just my heavy heart talking. Perhaps I’m just being a big chicken.)

I saw you yesterday at the grocery. (I’ve actually seen you a LOT lately, with A LOT of other people.  Including my family; that feels like a cheap punch to the kidneys, quite honestly.) I don’t know if you noticed me, but it seemed like you were in every aisle.

It hurt. A lot.

Seeing you there brought on a sudden rush of memory, of all of the meals we would make together, the pastas and breads and rich sauces. The late-night bowls of cereal we would share! Not to mention the desserts and gloriously-frequent snacks! Such rich times!!

It hurt so much, a pang that ran deep down into my core, so that all I could think to do was run walk earnestly and load my cart with 7 dozen eggs and a whole semi-boneless ham.

Ham. Ham. Ham. What a fool I am.

Do you remember that time at the State Fair? The chocolate-covered triple-fried honey bun, with a side of jumbo syrup and a gallon of Sweet Southern Lemonade? Whoo-weeee, you were in rare form then! We were so happy! Weren’t we? But, just like most times we spent together, it left me exhausted and unsure of how long I could keep up. And I think that’s why I wanted this break.

(Is it just a break? I wonder.)

Sorry to churn up so much of the past – I promised myself that I wouldn’t do that!

I ran into someone the other day who reminded me of you.  But I quickly realized that she was artificial, and nothing like you. It was as all very distasteful, to be honest.

I’ve been hanging out a lot with cheese; you and I both know THAT never goes well. I’ve eaten so much meat in the last few days that I am expecting a visit from PETA at any time. The other day, while “dining” at one of our favorite “restaurants” – you know the one – I consumed four greasy burger patties with my bare hands. I just gave away the buns.

Gave.  Away.  The buns!

I’m not sure who I’ve become.

Surely, someone you wouldn’t recognize. Some mornings – and it shames me to say this, but I want to be totally frank – some mornings I don’t have the energy to make it out of bed.

And of course, as you warned would happen, I now have no dough.

Enough about me. How are things in your world? How are the folks at the donut shop? Do they ever ask about me? Please tell them I miss them, and that I hope their business is doing ok without my patronage.

“Patronage.” Listen to me, using words I’d never dreamed of using before. It’s because you’re not here, calming me and helping me focus. It’s like my mind is fried. I’m becoming a shell of my former self!

Enough. Enough.

For now, I know the damage is done and I must continue on this journey I’ve started, and at least see SOMETHING through to the end. I hope one day I can become a man you’d admire again, someone who is worthy of seeing you again, at least to call you friend, with no beef whatsoever between us. Someone who you might learn to like again. Someone much more balanced.

Someone who doesn’t eat 4 pounds of bacon a day.

Please take care of yourself, and to thine own sweet self be true. I hope you get a 100% of the daily things you need.  Forget the absurd things that the bitter people are saying. You are an elemental part of the community.

You’re necessary, sweetheart, and people are wrong to suggest otherwise.

And remember: Jesus never said he was the “Brazil Nut of Life.” No one can take that away from you.

Confectionately Yours,


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2 thoughts on “A Love Letter to Carbs

  1. Even as a vegetarian, I couldn’t help laughing at the mental image of someone downing four greasy burger patties with bare hands. Did other restaurant patrons eagerly accept the empty buns? 😜

    Thanks for a good laugh today! (Sure hope PETA doesn’t hunt you down for your sudden increase in meat consumption.) 😄


  2. First of all, a heartfelt apology for the imagery 🙂 I was hoping to drive home the absurd nature of this “diet” (even as I had hopes it would work!) – maybe this was too much!

    The other patrons happened to be my family, and I didn’t have very many takers (imagine that.)

    Thanks for reading (and please don’t turn me in to the fine folks at PETA)!


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