Just A.D.D. Sugar
I silently cursed the middle-aged couple smiling at me from the front of my Kashi-Good Friends cereal box. As I chew mouthful after mouthful of fiber twigs I think that if they were really “good friends,” they’d help me out with a couple of marshmallows. The password has obviously been changed on the Honeycomb Hideout and these two sugar-free health zombies don’t know it. I am not certainly going cuckoo for this. I would never attempt to steal it from a leprechaun or protect it from a thieving rabbit. I miss Cap’n Crunch and the brutal, but delicious, angles of his morning offering. Add extra sugar to create a pixie stick-like gray silt at the bottom of the bowl? Sure. I don’t care how little bran is in a Frankenberry, it’s bright and delicious. My current breakfast neither “snaps” nor “crackles;” and in no way does it “pop.” It just sinks beneath the milk and disheartens me.
Have I treated my body so horribly that I am reduced to this daily punishment? Yep. I ate miniature chocolate chip cookies in whole milk well into my twenties. My mornings were colorful, noisy, and tooth aching. On the days a prize fell from the box, our kitchen table had the frenzy of a prison cafeteria during a cigarette shortage. It was glorious sugar fueled chaos, but it couldn’t last.
These days I quietly listen to the morning news and try not to think about what I’m eating. However, I sometimes catch eyes with the box and grow angry. How the Hell did these two Kashi cultists get their own cereal? I was never a big Wheaties guy, but at least I trust Mary Lou Retton and Michael Jordan! Say what you like about Count Chocula, these people are the real breakfast vampires, draining my soul dry five mornings a week. My only consolation is coffee, the socially acceptable adult sugar cereal substitute. That tagline is for sale, by the way.
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TUESDAY – Television. Our favorite drug; constant and comforting, but often packaged with regret.
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