Friday, July 23, 2010

Am I Blue?

Recently I've reached the conclusion that food should probably not be blue, and also, that as an adult, there are just some foods and beverages that I shouldn't consume. I had this epiphany while scrubbing my teeth with Listerine strips in the restroom of a fairly posh salon in Louisville during my sister's mani-pedi. It wasn't that I'd eaten enough garlic to flatten a horde of rampaging vampires, it was because my teeth were blue. It dawned on me at the same time that I probably should've just stuck to coffee when we blew through the Mini Mart on the way to her salon appointment.

A little later, I e-mailed Hopkins that I'm not nearly as colorful as I sound most of the time, adding that I'd achieved the dubious distinction of dyeing my teeth, tongue, and gums blue while simultaneously sucking down more sugar in one sitting than I'm supposed to have in a month. This is a ping on the tribal memory- I don't know if he remembers or not, but one of my standard beyond-parental-control eating habits on quick recall trips was oddly-colored, sugar-loaded slushies. Via the combination of that and a few Dr. Pepper chasers, I was usually higher (on caffeine and sugar) than a Georgia pine by the time we got home. In those days, though, I favored the red and radioactive-waste colored I'm stuck with the blue, largely because it's the only variety not based on a carbonated soft drink.

Several hours later, the sugar did a number on my digestive tract. I felt like I'd eaten a whole package of sweat socks that had subsequently caused my guts to knot up like an obi. You're warned when you have weight loss surgery that dietary indiscretions of this nature will kick your butt, although it's hard to imagine that it'll happen on quite this scale. I broke a cold sweat and waited for the sugar and dye to exit my system while vowing, "Never again!" There's nothing like the sensation that you're being disemboweled by The Cookie Monster, and it's not anything I'd care to repeat.

So much for the $.89 summer slushie special. Who knew that so little pocket change coupled with a heapin' helpin' of nostalgia could cause so much pain. Ugh.

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