Tuesday, July 29, 2008

They Try to Make Me Go to the Snack Closet but I Said "CheeTO, CheeTO, CheeTO" . . .

In honor of Amy Winehouse being hospitalized, here is a post that has been sitting in the drafts folder . . . only the subject line is a reference to Ms. Winehouse (in case you are looking for the connection).

Dear Cheetos -

I see you. I hear you. I, depending on the status of the seal on your little baggie can smell you and I, God forgive me, have tasted you in the recent past. You are as deliciuos as I remembered and as UN-nutritious as I always knew you were.

Your insanely brilliant shade of orange appearance masks the real anarchy of your true nature and character. What is it about you that used to attact me? How do you still hold any power over me at all? Is it the maltodexterin you are made of? Is it the thiamin mononitrate that I adore? Is it the 10 grams of fat you have in each little bag?

I hope and pray it is the 2% of my daily suggested phosphorus (where ELSE could I possibly get phosphorus - Chester whispers in my ear to taunt me) or the 4% of my iron? Is it the crusty stuff that collects on my finger tips and lips when I eat Cheetos?

What is it? How am I sixteen months post surgery and still somehow interested in deep fried corn snacks with cheese coating? I've lost 240 pounds. I've gained a lot of perspective. I've learned so much about food. Once upon a time 160 calories and 10 grams of fat was a snack to get me ready for a snack to hold me over to my next snack before the following meal.

As you well remember I was once very passionate about you. I would eat entire FAMILY SIZED bags of you on the walk home from the CVS in DC . . . and the CVS was literally 100 yards away from my apartment . . . and enjoy the second bag of you I had bought later that same day (or early the next).

Anywho - why am I explaining myself to YOU, snack food?! You don't deserve my time or excuses or validation. For people who can eat moderatly and with common sense you are a fine addition to any sandwich, sporting event or impulsive road trip but . . . for me . . . you are poison. You are the first step on a slippery slop and I'm NOT taking that step.

I wish you well, Cheetos. I'll always remember the good times we had (including hanging out with your friends and family) but our time has ended. You no longer hold power over me. You no longer "complete" me. You are no longer part of who I am.

Don't cry. You'll be fine. The other 30+ people in this office and millions around the world will still enjoy you but you can't tempt me any more. Oh and tell your little "buddies" Frito, Dorito, Tostito and Ruffle the same thing!

Best wishes for your future but, please, don't contact me any more. I've moved on and there is nothing you can do to change my mind . . . I hope and pray.

- Sean


This Show said...

Chester Cheetah is the devil.

Be more like Cocoa the the Cocoa Krispies Monkey. DON'T eat the sugary cereal.

But DO play with your own feces.

Sean C. Amore said...

LANGUAGE, This Show. Language! Let's keep it clean. My niece reads this blog!