Here is the horrible thing that happened on Thanksgiving:
First of all, I was having a wonderful day with family. Talking. Grazing the platter of sliced vegetables and black olives. Catching up with cousins. Waiting in anticipation, along with everyone else, for the big dinner event. It came and went very traditionally and plentiful. Right before we eat, we gather into a circle and take turns sharing what we are thankful for. I used to hate it as a kid. Sometime in my growing up, I went from hating it to crying at everything people said. I still cry. No matter what people say.
To my surprise, my dinner choices were extremely slim, while everyone else enjoyed sweet rolls, cream berry jell-O, yams heaped with brown sugar, stuffing (my favorite!!), and even my other favorite, the green bean casserole which is made with cream of mushroom sauce. Sugar. I gravitated towards the open container of those little crunchy-fried onions that top the green bean casserole and glanced at the ingredients and even those were off limits! I enjoyed a sugarless cheesy crab dip, more sliced vegetables and some plain mashed potatoes, for my meal. I missed out on a lot of my favorite, once-a-year dishes. I was able to stick to the right portion sizes, however, and felt light when I stood up from the table, something I don't ever remember feeling on Thanksgiving.
We spent the late afternoon playing games, talking, reminiscing and drinking coffee. I was bracing myself for the moment when all of the desserts would be set out. That moment came and went pretty uneventfully. The desserts all looked wonderful, but I felt strong and proud to be sugarless.
Later in the evening I decided to indulge in a root beer that I had bought earlier in the week, thinking of this day. I guessed ahead of time that I would need a dessert substitute and root beer seemed above and beyond as far as my sweet needs were concerned. This week I discovered a 4-pack of root beer in the health food section of my local grocery store, and was shocked to see that the ingredients listed on the side of the bottle did not have sugar. Molasses seemed to be the sweetener and the other "gourmet" ingredients looked too intriguing to pass up. To back up, I have been craving a good root beer for the past several months. Perhaps it was all the root beer that was passed under my nose all summer long.
I was so excited to drink my root beer and made a point of announcing to everyone that I had found a sugar-free root beer. I took a sip and was overwhelmed by sweetness. It tasted almost too sweet, but had that delicious, ice cold root beer flavor that is intoxicating to me. I had my husband taste it and he seemed to think it wasn't sweet enough.
As the evening wore on, I sipped on my root beer, wanting to savor it. Not too long after I had been sipping it, I began to feel bloated but blamed it on all of the black olives that I had eaten throughout the day. Next, however, I found myself nodding off and unable to continue the game that all of my family were participating in. I actually lost on purpose just so that I could go into my room for a little nap. I had become deliriously tired. Once in my room, I glanced at the computer and figured it wouldn't hurt to go to the website of the root beer company to see what else they put in it that would cause me to dose on and off like this. It was easy to find their website and in a matter of seconds, I had the root beer ingredient list in front of me.
To my horror, shock, anger and surprise, SUGAR was listed as an ingredient! How could this be? Had I missed something on the label of the bottle? I double-checked just to be sure, and then had someone else look, too. There is no sugar listed as an ingredient on the bottle's ingredient list. I even went so far as to read the box label that the four bottles came in.
I wanted to hit somebody. Throw something heavy. Scream at the root beer people for tricking me like this! I would have done anything to avoid a mistake like this! I was so angry I wrote a letter to the company and am anxiously awaiting their reply.
Here is a copy of the letter I wrote: