My Dealer Wears a Smile and Sells Cupcakes

Sugar is an addiction like anything else.

It may not destroy lives the way drugs or alcohol can. I’m not stealing from people or lying to get my next fix. But the battle, the craving, the guilt, the withdrawal, the cycle of self-harm, it’s all there. Sugar just dresses it up prettier.

My dealer doesn’t meet me in an alley. My dealer meets me in the grocery store aisle, in the office breakroom, at birthday parties, and every checkout line I’ve ever stood in. My dealer wears a smile, plays jingles on TV, and tells me I “deserve” this.

Somone elses dealer might be scary with guns, corners, sirens, and secrecy.

But my dealer markets to children. Legally. To start them early.

And my dealer has the full weight of the government on their side.

There are warnings on cigarettes. Restrictions on alcohol.

But sugar? It’s everywhere hidden in food labels, disguised as comfort, and sold under the banner of celebration. My dealer calls it “fun.” The government calls it “food.” Shockingly, the dealer’s product hides in places you’d never expect. According to the WHO(World Health Org.), much of the sugar we ingest comes from foods not labelled as sweets: one tablespoon of ketchup alone contains around 4 grams of free sugar.

I’ve tried to quit before. Gone a few days clean, sometimes even months, until the headaches come, or the irritability, or that wave of sadness that feels bigger than sugar itself. When I give in, there’s that familiar crash, not just physical, but emotional. The same shame that any addict knows. 

Some people can handle it in moderation. Some can eat one cookie and stop. Some can have one drink, one cigarette, one hit, and move on. I’m not one of those people. And that doesn’t make me weak. It just means my body and mind are responding exactly the way they were designed to, by a system that profits off my inability to stop.

So maybe I’ll start a new kind of group. Sugar Addicts Anonymous.

No weigh-ins. No lectures. Just a room full of people who understand that sometimes the most dangerous dealers don’t hide in shadows, they hide behind marketing budgets, corporate lobbyists, and cartoon mascots.

The sadness it brings me has to mean something.

Maybe it’s my body’s way of asking for real nourishment, not the kind that melts on my tongue, but the kind that doesn’t leave me ashamed after the sweetness fades.

And as the holidays roll in, when every celebration comes wrapped in frosting and guilt, maybe this year, I’ll make one small choice differently. One less drink. One less dessert. One honest pause before I say, “I deserve this.”

If you’ve ever dealt with an addict, you’ve probably said, “Do it for your life. Do it for your child. Do it for your family.”

Now try saying that to yourself. Because if we’re honest, the way this stuff is going, our life expectancy is just as threatened as any other addiction, it’s just been given a prettier package and a holiday discount. 

According to the WHO, limiting “free sugars” to under 10% of our daily energy intake, and ideally below 5% can significantly reduce the risk of weight-gain, dental decay and chronic disease. And the cost isn’t just on the scale, as you probably already know, excess sugar is tied to elevated blood pressure, fatty-liver, type 2 diabetes, and heart disease. And no one is saying it, but I’m convinced it’s also linked to the big “C”….CANCER!  I’ll leave that there.

So this holiday season, maybe the small choice isn’t just to skip a dessert, it’s to say: “I deserve health.” Because the dealer smiled but the deal wasn’t fair.

The dealer smiled because he knew this one purchase wouldn’t be the last. He knew it would cost me more not just in dollars spent chasing another taste, but in the quiet toll it takes on my body. I’d pay again in medication, in fatigue, in bloodwork, in the creeping cost of “normal” health problems that were never normal at all.

That’s how the machine keeps running. The same system that sells the problem profits from the cure. I didn’t get a fair part of the deal, but then again, fairness was never part of the agreement, only the illusion of choice.