Guilty Pleasures

I bought a forbidden treat last week and I have to confess, I loved every savory bite. Over Super Bowl weekend I've convinced myself that gluttony is ok and that processed foods and additives don't matter; an American tradition I'm not willing to give up. So last Sunday on my counter there sat bags and bags of chips alongside of pre-made salsas, tortillas, bean & cheese dips and gooey, greasy satisfying chicken wings. But among all of these yummy snacks there sat - in all of its glory - an orange bag housing my favorite crunchy edible treat. Upon seeing the bag, saliva seeped from my mouth and dripped down my shirt. I set my plate of food onto the table and then ripped open the bag and took one - not wanting to seem greedy - of the orange crunchy miracles and placed it onto my tongue.

When I have a bag of Cheetos(R) in my hands my self-control lands somewhere outside of the window. Everyday until the bag is gone I minimize lunch and dinner, leaving more room for artificial cheesy puffiness. Now, I'm a relatively healthy person. I cook from whole foods, minimize meat consumption, am conscious of food labels announcements of sodium, ugly ingredients I can't pronounce and those superfluous calories. But when I have an orange bag of crunchies sitting on my lap, health awareness of pushed into a place I cannot consciously go.

In the past year, I switched from the orange bag with Chester Cheetah to buying the "healthy baked cheese puffs," thinking to myself that I can eat twice as much because they are made from organic processed powder cheese and disodium phosphate. Seemingly disgusting, right? My taste buds thought so too at first, but they quickly settled. Any kid - in their right frame of mind - would throw down baked cheese puffs and spit out what does not stick in their teeth and shout, "Gross!" Perhaps its my grown-up sophisticated taste buds that help me to imagine that baked cheese snacks are an exotic twist on the original Cheeto. At least that's what I have to tell myself. I mean disodium phosphate has got to be healthier when the claim "organic" is slapped next to the label.

But, then the unthinkable happened. I was sitting on the couch, innocently eating baked cheese puffs when my eye started to itch. I went to the mirror and saw a hive forming. Strange, I thought. So, I took an anti-histamine and went to sleep. A few days later the same thing happened after eating baked cheese puffs. I cried.

I live in a land of health consciousness; a land where people sneer if you don't bring your own sacks to the grocery store and spending extra money on organics is expected. Not that I disagree with that, but you can imagine what people would say about my Cheeto secret. (My embarrassment amongst fellow health-conscious Coloradoans was the other reason I switched to baked cheese puffs.) When in the store, before I switched to the organic version, I'd tuck the forbidden treasure under my bulk organically dried black beans, broccoli, and eggs produced from cage free, whole grain-grass fed chickens. I'd hide the orange bag and dart to the flax seed department trying to avoid any stink eyes given to me from other shoppers. And now, because of my allergy to baked cheese puffs, I'm resigned to endure this again.

Perhaps you're wondering why I've devoted an entire blog post to Cheetos. The truth is that this blog is about things that I love and well, Cheetos made the cut.

But in all seriousness, I've learned a good lesson from this situation. To me, what gives life its quality needs careful consideration and devotion. And if that means indulging in a handful of Cheetos from time to time in order for life to have a little more happiness, then changing that may not be worth the trouble.

Cheers to Cheetos and to a life of happiness!

The end.