For years, I’ve avoided ingesting things I couldn’t pronounce. Stuff like methylchloroisothiazolinone. Because of this, my children have suffered permanent emotional damage. In my attempts to protect them from harm, they were ridiculed by classmates for bringing unidentifiable lunch items, viscous brown smoothies with blackstrap molasses and brewers yeast, and other nutritious but horrifying-to-look at treats. One daughter, to this day, tells some of these tales to friends as I, the elderly mother, sit silently with a sheepish grin on my face. The tale of the swollen ticks, for example.
Food coloring was on my “you can’t eat this” list. Not wanting to be extreme, I allowed sweets and candies from time to time. Here’s what would happen: A bag of M&Ms would be placed in a small container and soaked in water until the color came off. I’d say, “Look! THIS is what you could have ingested!” They would look at the grayish-brown effluvium as it journeyed down the sink. The M&Ms would then be carefully laid out to dry on paper towels. When ready to eat, they looked a bit like swollen ticks, I do admit now. But back then, I was doing my due diligence to protect my children.
By child #4, Lunchables were found in everyone’s lunchbox, as were pre-packaged Capri-Suns and unhealthful goodies galore. I suppose I gave up. I figured if three children had not died from alar-tainted apple juice, preservatives, chemicals, additives, and other unseen evils that other people gave them despite my threats and ranting, I might as well relent. And every one of my children is alive today, resurrecting stories of their strange, eccentric mother who often did outlandish things.
On my drive home, I busted open a package of Jelly Belly’s. These little flavorful jellybeans have always been on my Do Not Eat Ever list. Why? They are too pretty, too tasty, too unnatural. The other problem is that I am not a delicate eater. I should suck and savor, I know that. But I am more like a man when it comes to food. I ingest, inhale, wolf down.
I should know better. I was raised in Bel Air, CA and had every last ounce of proper training to appear lovely in public. What started out innocently as charm school ended up as my entrance to society as a debutante. It grated against me then and now. I wasn’t Barbie, for God’s sake. I was and am the nameless, genderless rebel. I wanted to break the rules, go and eat candy in the woods, hold small bug and animal funerals, get dirty, be a kid. I tried my debutante-best to ration the beans by pouring the little packets into my lap, popping one at a time when I changed gears. I got to coconut and it hit me. What if…a little bit of poison is what keeps health in balance, wards off disease, safeguards sanity? What if? Seriously. A little arsenic cures syphilis. Homeopathy uses lethal plants and poisons in an infinitesimal dose to cure disease. So why not coconut jelly belly’s?
It made me feel much better about my decision. Relax. That one thing you thought might kill you could actually save your life. One never knows. If we live long enough to become wise, we understand that we will never fully know. And that’s why it’s okay to eat Jelly Belly’s. Because they taste good and make you happy. Just buy the kid-pack. Salud!
