I read somewhere that it takes a mere 40 days for sugar cravings to subside if you go cold turkey.

I’m here to tell you that article was a blasphemous lie.

I am now forty days in to my year-long, no sugar lifestyle and my desire to faceplant in to a tray of cupcakes is stronger than ever. Oh, and guess what’s not helping the situation?

Valen-f*cking-tine’s Day.

Chocolate, sweets, bon-bons and frosted cookies are now rampant. Combine that with the fact that it’s now Girl Scout Cookie season and I’m on edge 24/7. Someone brought Peanut Butter Patties in to the office this past week. I actually had to leave and go out to my car until the urge-to-inhale-them-in-one-fell-swoop went away.

True story. I have been sober for three years and a few days. Let me tell you, alcohol was 352,989 times easier to give up than sugar. I’m likely the only person on the planet who can claim that, but it’s true. My sugar game is strong. My sheer willpower is the only thing separating me from mainlining some pure Vermont maple syrup that’s currently in my dad’s pantry.

Today whilst traipsing through Sam’s Club to get my dad his monthly allotment of Ensure, I mistakenly stumbled in to the snacks aisle. The old me would have snagged that bag of gourmet Turtles, eaten a majority of them in the car and not thought twice about it. The new me carefully back stepped out of the aisle—not unlike I was exiting a minefield.

Despite my ever-present cravings, I’ve noticed a definitive change in my taste buds. Last week while grabbing coffee with my friend Jodi, she ordered a Dirty Chai. I nearly killed her—as that was always my preferred caffeinated beverage of choice. I’d usually drink two a day. I, meanwhile, ordered a green tea. Meh. At one point while we were gabbing, I reached for my to-go cup, but accidentally grabbed hers. I took one drink and nearly spit it across the room. It tasted like—for lack of a better term—sunburnt sugar water. It was simultaneously a small victory and crushing defeat. My favorite drink now tasted like overly sweetened swill.

I’m writing this blog to take my mind off the fact that some kind soul brought my dad some chocolate covered almonds for ValDay. I know they’re downstairs. I can hear their stupid siren song calling me.

All I know is that I need my mind to cut me some slack and fast—as the urge to eat frosting right out of a can is imminent. I’m not even kidding.