Can Sugar Cause Insomnia?

We’re not so sure. A study out from Harvard, last year, focused on the timing of food intake in relation to bedtime, rather than the food itself.

On the other hand, NBC pooled together scientific sources to say that it can.

Either way, I paid the price for what I believe to be my cookie intake one late night at a friend’s house, when my husband and I were served some deliciously sleep-depriving Moroccan treats.

The following was how things went down.

We were at a friend’s house on a Saturday night, when I started feeling some grumbling down below – my tummy was apparently looking for attention. It had been an hour or so since we finished dinner and it was one of those nights that called for some nosh, so I caved to the craving.

I pointed this out to my host, most likely in the form of a hint along the lines of, “I just love snacks,” and was accompanied to the food pantry, where I hand selected a box of Moroccan baked goods. Cookie by cookie, the night air filled with sugary chuckles.

The contents of the box were gradually dwindling and supplies appeared to be getting scarce. As I bit into the second to last one, I knew the end had come.

In true Corriel fashion (my husband can attest to this, as this phenomenon is infamously fail-proof in reproducibility), I left the last of the Moroccan cookies nestled safely in its place.

Cookie by cookie, the night air filled with sugary chuckles.

If it stays in its box, the unspoken rule says – the last of the treats – it serves as an appreciative gesture. Its lonesome presence tells the host, “I’m much obliged for your allowing me to partake in this snack, and here’s a little piece for you, as a testament for just how much I care.”

It’s quite possibly like a reverse-goodie bag, only given to the host after a shindig, rather than the guest.

This happens to us often, when my husband and I share a meal. I became curious one day and began a search. Why was it, that we happily devoured a heavy dessert, nipping away at the bits and fighting through the rich decadence, as if we didn’t see food in a decade? Right up until that last little bit. It always ends in a halt. I felt the need to explain it to myself – and to you – and I came up with this.

Last Bite Syndrome.

Apparently, this syndrome encompasses the belief that the last bite you take determines whether you’ll come back for more. The journal Psychological Science published findings about this.

But I have a different theory – at least when it comes to us.

That teeny morsel, the 4 millimeter wee remnant, will perch on our plate, affirming to the other, “There you go, darling, have the last bite. You’re welcome.” Maybe it makes us feel like the unofficial ‘martyr’ of the pair.

So what does that make of the one who eats that last piece, the so called ‘one that caves’?

Let’s just say it makes that person one bite happier. Oh, and darn good-looking, too. Yes, because that person, almost inevitably, ends up being yours truly – me.

On that same Saturday, 3 AM came and went, as did my zzz’s. I knew I had it coming. It’s what I got for eating an entire box of sugary deliciousness. Minus the one I left behind.