Those little stickers on apples? Annoying. I mean, I’m glad to know where the damn thing’s from, and that it’s grown organically and all. But they’re such a pain in the ass to peel off! And what poor soul has to inspect them to be sure the sticker’s in place? What kind of day job is that?
I’d been avoiding apples and carrots and similarly crunchy stuff ‘cuz for a while there it seemed like every time I ate one I would find myself retching trying to get it outa’ my esophagus. Of course, my mother was like, “It’s acid reflux, honey. It’s genetic.” Great! Another ailment of The Thirties.
I vividly recall the sound of pills shaking in a bottle rattling down the hallway when I was a kid. My mom would pop a fistful of Gaviscon every night. It was my lullaby. So for a while there I figured apples and carrots and similarly crunchy stuff were gonna’ do me in.
Then I just decided to chew more thoroughly, which seems to have done the trick. Though I do tend to find myself picking those damned little stickers outa’ my teeth every time.
Which seems worth the hassle, somehow, what with that whole “An apple a day…” shtick. I try and do lotsa’ fruits and vegetables every day, plus a multivitamin, some B12, etc etc, largely to combat the heavy presence of beer in my diet. Hence all the salads and apples and bananas and fruit shakes and such. I’m not convinced they help, really. Though my recent physical (my first since college) revealed remarkably healthy cholesterol levels (and a heart murmur).
But I had clearly convinced myself that a few health shakes, Power Bars and Power Gel were gonna’ get me through the NYC Marathon. And you remember how that ended up. Sure, I finished. But it wasn’t the blueberries, strawberries, soy yogurt and orange juice in a blender that got me through. It was… it is… i was…
What was it again?