Sucro-Masochism.

So if you know me (and may God generously bless those of you that don't know me and still find some interest in reading about my blasé life), you are more than likely aware of one (or several) of my glaring, horrific flaws:

I don't eat sugar.

Or simple carbohydrates, or trans fat. In fact, it's only been in recent months that I have healed the rift betwixt me and the world's population of fruit (although I still have nutritional aversions to dates, bananas and figs - shame on your high glycemic index).

In the words of my (loving) grandmother last week,

"Well she is completely obsessed with food!"

I am. Sue me.

A bowl of fettuccine alfredo is at times enough to send me into a nervous panic.

That being said,

I. LOVE. TO. COOK.

And not just cook. Bake. With sugar. And brown sugar. And cane juice. And butter. And butter. And butter. And cream. And shortening...

Well, you get the general idea.

My question is, from where does this odd dichotomy stem? And since my culinary behaviors are perhaps the ONE thing I haven't discussed at length with my therapist, I send this out into the cyber void that is my blog:

Is this obsession a sign of loving, beautiful charity? Or pure, unadulterated masochism?

I'll let you know if I ever figure it out.

That being said, I've never been that charitable.

xoxo.