Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Sgt. Grumbles, one of Perry Bible Fellowship’s many memorable characters, reminds me of myself vis-a-vis a Cadbury Creme Egg, a treat surpassed only by Sour Patch Kids and gummi fruit slices. The appeal of an Egg, much like the pull to use a word like “vis-a-vis,” lies in its unashamed excess and its shimmering packaging.

One look at the garish foil wrapper and you know: any substantive meaning of Easter is subsumed between those rich folds of something within that chocolate shell. To this day I don’t know what constitutes the white and the yolk, nor do I have any urge to read the list of ingredients. I merely imagine an antiseptic, brightly lit factory in which the dreams of children and adults alike roll off the assembly line, packs of two, the contented clucking of rabbits the only background noise.

This recent outing into a culinary dimension without processed sugars has been a spectacular failure. Ice cream, cookies, fries, madeleines, fruit tarts, chocolate tarts, pancakes, deep dish, candy corn–holy Aunt Jemima, I posit I’ve consumed more sugar with the regimen than without it. There’s compelling support for this theory, mainly in the fact that I feel dumber. All the mental acuity gleaned from a healthier diet, gone. I’d just as soon begin typing in grunts, were it not for the selfish, inextinguishable drive to get back on the horse and reclaim that clarity of mind.