Remorse

I cheated yesterday. I needed change for bus fare home, so to break a large bill, I ducked into a drug store and bought a package of Starburst "Fruit & Creme." Now, it has been literally years since I've eaten anything like it. (A co-worker in 1992 had them in his office at all times, where, together with Skittles, they formed the base of his personal food pyramid.)

I waited until intermission to open them. The bright packaging (my knee jerks: total overkill that should be illegal), the neatly organized rows of colors entice. I shared them with my seat mate, Number One Son. So, do I feel guilty? No, not really. It's not like I scarfed a huge Costco-sized bag of them. No, it was a tiny indulgence, and that should be OK.

Or is it? The ingredients list sounds like a who's who of food world baddies: high-fructose corn syrup, partially hydrogenated soybean oil, and panoply of numbered dyes. Yummy! Well, actually, it wasn't. It was disappointing. In spite of all the chemical ingredients (I'm suppressing a shudder as I write), these were nothing special as far as flavor was concerned. And the texture is just this side of ear wax. Frankly, if I'm going to fall off the real foods wagon, it should taste better than this. Sorry, Starburst, but this is goodbye. I'm going back where I belong.