My Little Addiction

Articles

Holly Winter
Living The Life Of Holly

My Little Addiction
Mar 28, 2003

Darlin-man opened my refrigerator, ready to accept the invitation to make himself at home.

“Hey. What’s this in here, baby food?” He called into the bedroom.

Man. I was caught. Now he knew. I sheepishly walked into the kitchen area.

“No. Not baby food.” I said. “Pudding.” I was ready to defend my food. Let him even try to make fun of my little addiction.

“Man.” He marveled. Are you sure it isn’t baby food?”

Ok. So. I love pudding. It isn’t my fault. I always have. My mother is more embarrassed about my love of pudding than she would be if I were hooked on drugs. My family is known for gourmet cooking. So. The fact that I would rather have pudding then Crème Brulee makes them hang their heads in shame.

I pretend that the pudding is a healthy snack. I buy skim milk without lactose. Then I get instant pudding without sugar. I know. But. As long as I get the butterscotch, it’s pretty good. I whisk it up and pour it into little tiny half cup containers so that I can get the four servings that the box promises.

Then. Each afternoon, wherever I am, I indulge in my little treat. I know. If it is a good day, I have one delectable treat. If it is a bad day, two will easily disappear. Only once did I eat three, but that was right before a big doctor’s appointment. I was trying to gain weight so that on the next visit he could congratulate me for losing weight.

Well. It was a new doctor. And. He never did check my weight. But. He did ask me if we needed to talk about nutrition. He worried that if I fly so much as a flight attendant, how can I eat healthily? Man. It’s only pudding.

I mean. Really. I know more about nutrition than most. I have more fruit and vegetables in my kitchen than many produce counters. I eat brown rice for the vitamin content and couldn’t care less about chocolate chip cookies. I have to keep a shelf labeled, “Friend Food” in my pantry, or I would never get visitors. Is pudding that big a deal?

I was once with my friend, Ralph, at a cheap buffet. I only agreed to go for the pudding at the salad bar.

“Hey. Shouldn’t you be eating cheesecake or something chocolaty?” He asked, knowing full well that I despise chocolate.

“Shouldn’t you finish your peas?” I countered.

He shrugged his shoulders. “No more peas. I’m done.”

I shook my head back and forth, maternally, “No dessert till your peas are finished.”

I am not sure how it happened exactly. But. Within moments we were each perched and ready to attack. His spoon was ready to launch peas, mine pudding. I was daring him to start the food fight knowing damn well that I would never give up.

“You will suffer far more than I will.” I warned, ready to launch the attack.

“I’m not worried at all. You have bad aim.” He reasoned, correctly. Then he smiled. “I bet you miss me completely.”

Hmm. It would be humiliating to be an arms length away and have him come out unscathed, which was more than a slight possibility.

It was right at this moment that I heard a little voice at my shoulder. Now. You might think that it was the voice of reason. But. It wasn’t.

“Hey Dad! Look! It is my teacher, Ms. Winter. Hi Ms. Winter! This is my father, David.”

Weapons reverted to spoons. I greeted my student and his father and introduced my best friend.

My student spoke up, “Ms. Winter. I can’t believe that you are eating pudding for dessert. Wouldn’t you rather have some chocolate cake? Hey. Want me to get you some?”

“Um. No. Thanks.”

About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

------------

Comment on this column in the forum.
------------