Lupus and Nutrition: Weighing the weight of sugar in my life

I have always loved dessert. 

Always.

My mom signed my sister and me up for a private baking class when I was in elementary school. We would show up at Mrs South's house, her apron on, recipes laid out.  She taught us how to make a buttery, flaky pie crust, and how to avoid a dry, crumbly quick bread. 

From then on, baking became a hobby. I baked all throughout high school.  I baked when I was home on break from college. I baked for co-workers, starting a company-wide baking contest at my first job. My then boyfriend (now husband) and I created a Christmas cookie party tradition accepting homemade entries only that has lasted for the better part of 25 years. 

 

I bake when I'm happy. I bake when I'm stressed. I don't bake when I'm sad. But I do bake to comfort others. To express what I can't say in words. 

It's no surprise that my love of baking grew into a love of sweets. 

I always look at the dessert menu first, judging a restaurant by its final course. I have chocolate everyday. I seek out and silently critique bakery style chocolate chip cookies everywhere I go. 

I never skip dessert.  

But what if...I did?  What if I just skipped it?  What if I decided that dessert isn't essential?

That I can live without cookies. And cake. And muffins and ice cream and candy?

That I can still be a great baker, a curious baker, without eating dessert all the time? Or even most of the time? 

Those are the questions I've been asking myself lately. 

And I think I'm on to something.