The one on sugar

I admit it: I love sugar.

Even back in the day, when diabetes wasn't the byword on everyone's lips, and cookies were okay, and popping lollipops and candy bars continuously into one's mouth throughout the day wasn't seen as too life-threatening, I loved sugar.

As a chubby child, I was privy to a wide selection of sugar-laden, energy-boosting, bounce-off-the-walls-type treats in which to indulge. Goya and Serg's were the manufacturers of the day, and they came out with all the best stuff. One particular treat was my favorite: an ice cream cone filled out with marshmallows, and topped with an ice-cream scoop-size lump of marshmallow, and coated in chocolate. That little sugar bomb cost P5 at the time, and I would have two, along with an eight ounce bottle of Coca-Cola.

The sari-sari store near my home also sold ridiculously sweet treats, and one particular favorite was what we called Milo, but was in essence a chocolate bar made of cheap chocolate that was chewy and oh-so-wonderfully sweet. That would be the finish to a marathon run of salty treats, including the now-defunct Cheezels and Chickadees from Royal(R) Snacks.

As I grew older, the sweet tooth grew. I discovered Cookie Monster cakes, and Violet Crumble candy bars, and Maltesers, and Knick Knacks. I found Iced Gems, Milky Way, Three Musketeers, and Cadbury chocolates. I became privy to the secrets shared exclusively to me by pecan pie, and ice cream, and bread with butter and sugar.

Red Ribbon has the good stuff nowadays. Honey cake. Coffee Crumble. Chocolate mousse. Blueberry cheesecake. Then there are sylvanas from Goldilocks, and canonigo from Alba's, and chocolate cake from Polly's in Merville, and to-die-for rhum cake from this woman that my mom knows, that is so wonderfully buttery, and rhummy, and sweet.

Now, there are more refined treats, albeit sugar-free. Don't believe that junk. Go legit sugar, and none of the aspartame, Splenda, or Nutrasweet crap. Go sweet, sweet sugar! The other day, I bought a slice of Turtle Pie from Sugarhouse, immediately after a three-hour gym workout, and it was better than those 30 minutes on that stupid treadmill.

I want to be thin, but I also love sugar. Maybe a compromise is in order, hopefully before I get diabetes. Meanwhile, there's chocolate-coated polvoron at home with my name on it, and Oprah's on in an hour, so if you'll excuse me, I have to run.