Starving

"I'm starving", I cried.

"No, you're not", says my husband.

"No, no I'm not", I admit.  "I ate 3 hours ago."

He paused.

"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 peach
a large salad with bacon dressing
a bowl of fruit salad
a couple of deviled eggs
another large salad with ground beef and bacon
iced tea
water

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.