Dear Wheataholics Anonymous,

I fell off the wagon again last night, and big! I imbibed, er, ingested some pretzels, a whole slice of pizza and, gulp! a hefty piece of three (uneven) layer cake. Things were getting a little out of control, even, some would say, over-indulgent, before the party was over. And then, just before I went to bed, I took a fork to the remainder of the cake where it was cowering in the refrigerator. I didn’t eat the whole thing, but still, I woke up this morning feeling kind of woozy, a bit dizzy and most definitely spacey (well, spacey's normal).

I got up and stumbled to the scene of the crime, formally known as my kitchen. My family was sleeping the sound sleep of the dead/those who have tied one on. (Which they definitely didn’t. Unless they have some kind of problem with wheat, too, in which case, they definitely did). In my solitude, I surveyed the damage; half eaten pieces of cake (clearly, not mine) glued to their plates, about a pound of frosting slowly turning to cement in its bowl, crusts of pizza (I was bewildered--uneaten pizza crust simply does not compute) sticking up at odd angles all over the sink.

My body was giving me a message so I took a few moments to listen. How did I feel? Was the wheat hang-over I was experiencing this morning worth the madness and mayhem of last night? If I had simply bought a cake rather than constructing one, would I be feeling even the teensiest bit better now? Would I have even bothered to eat the store bought stuff, and if not, would I be feeling human now? Did my overall feeing of total annihilation have anything to do with the brutal three hours I spent yesterday with the Big Guy at his annual checkup? (more on that later)

As the day wore on, my throat felt tight and swollen. I ask you, was it the wheat or a virus? I grew sleepy and fell into a two hour drugged doze, the kind where you repeatedly half awaken and strain to open the eyelids but to no avail. Wheat or fatigue? I spent the day in a stupor, unable to have an intelligent conversation. Was this the ravages of wheat or parenthood? But wait! What about all the sugar that tags a ride with all things wheat? Could that be what was making it so hard to think all day?

Too many questions, so little active brain cells. All in all, I would have to say that a few hours of food-freedom probably wasn’t worth it.

At the same time, there are probably a few things I gained from this whole experience. At our house, we call them “pounds”.