(Original post date: Tuesday, March 04, 2008)
I have a new addiction: Puffin Corn. My daughter asked if we could by this "different kind of popcorn" with no hulls since the orthodontist says she can't eat regular popcorn. I said sure, wondering how they get all those hulls off...
Well, it's not freaking popcorn. It's more like cheese curl stuff shaped like and flavored like popcorn. Except it's got a softer texture than cheese curls. It sort of melts in your mouth.
My first reaction was, "Oh gross." A couple of handfuls later I started liking them. And as my greasy fingers grazed the bottom of the bag, I realized I had a problem.
This stuff is tasty, but a whole bag is something like 3,000 calories, all of it crap. Ugh, and the grease... indigestion city! It didn't matter. All I wanted was more, more, more Puffin Corn!
I tried to fight it. I didn't open the second bag. Someone else did, I swear! It's not fair to ask me to avoid it once it's open. Plus, it'll get stale really quickly, so it's wasteful not to eat it all. I'm nothing if not frugal.
Yet fate is cruel. I paid for this transgression. My stomach complained. My intestines punished me severely. My kids asked, "Are you coming out soon?"
I swore it'd be my last time. I walked right by it when I did my weekly grocery shopping. I thought I had it beat. And then, I'm sorry to say (sob!), I fell off the wagon.
When I head home from work at about 4:30, I am HUNGRY. It is stupid to go to the grocery store at that time of day for any reason. Processed food seems so appealing at that time of day. It's salty or sweet or creamy or crunchy… and I don't have to cook it. On a good day I'll find myself trying to rationalize serving Hostess cupcakes as the vegetable with dinner. On bad days? On bad days it's best just to go home. Make do with what's in the house. Scrambled eggs or French toast. Leftovers or bowls of cereal. Anything will do – just don't let me go to the supermarket at 4:30 after a crappy day.
If only we heeded our own advice. Alas.
My intentions were pure. Bread, milk, Diet Snapple. That was it. Bread, milk, Diet Snapple. The bread and milk were no problem… I zoomed by, plopped them into my basket, and headed off for the Diet Snapple.
In my regular supermarket, the Diet Snapple is in an aisle with juice and water and soda. No problem. That afternoon, however, I'd stopped at the store closest to my house. In this store, we'll call it The Devil, the Diet Snapple is in the snack food aisle.
It wasn't my fault! I ignored them as I sailed past to grab the Diet Snapple, but they called to me. They sang. They cajoled. They said I could eat just a handful and save the rest for another day. It wasn't a fair fight. Filled with joy, I grabbed that beautiful blue bag of heavenly, overly-processed, grease-filled, artificially flavored, crunchy goodness.
I held off until I got home. I may be an addict, but I do have my pride. I waited until I was in my own kitchen, my children out of sight, and then I ripped open the bag and began to stuff myself with Puffin Corn. Oh, sweet abandon.
Half an hour later my daughter came upstairs to find me sitting at the kitchen table moaning and turning green, the empty blue bag pushed away and little fake-corn crumbs littering the table. "Again?" she said. "Didn't you even save any for me?" It was a shameful moment.
I'm trying to kick this thing. Every day I tell myself, "Just for today, I will not touch Puffin Corn."
But it's a difficult battle.
Just thinking about it is making my mouth water.
I'm so weak.
I'm going to score some Puffin Corn. I'll try again tomorrow.