"I'm starving", I cried.
"No, you're not", says my husband.
"No, no I'm not", I admit. "I ate 3 hours ago."
"You're psychologically starving."
I was, of course. I wasn't starving in any metaphorical sense. I certainly wasn't starving in a literal sense. I was starving in a psychological sense. My brain, upon only 12 hours lack of processed sugar, was convinced that I was starving, and no amount of real food was going to tell it otherwise. I had already eaten
a 3 egg omlette with oodles of veggies
a 1/2 cup of coffee
a large salad with bacon dressing
a bowl of fruit salad
a couple of deviled eggs
another large salad with ground beef and bacon
I wasn't even close to being hungry. Yet, my brain was starving - starving for sugar.
I'd like to finish this, but I literally cannot form a cohesive thought right now.