“Honey your Froot Loops are ready.” Seriously, these were the actual words the doting father called up the stairs to his fifteen year-old daughter. I’m wondering, as the waft of cologne, sweet and heavy, floats down the stairs and up my nostrils, making a touchdown at the back of my throat, Is this is really my house? How did we get to be the land of Fruit Loops and Victoria’s Secret body spray?
Well it is America, land of boxed shit posing as food. At least they’ll eat it, right? We’re working our way towards something healthier. Right? You can’t control everything. That’s for damn sure. This is not a battle I want to have with my kids…Yeah, battles are a drag.
Or maybe no justification at all: It’s just what we do.
In our house he says, they’ve already had so much change. She’s picky. This is just the way we live.
I actually don’t say much. That’s not to say I don’t judge.
Here’s the part that makes the hempy bile rise in my throat. Yesterday my daughter came home from school and immediately slipped into our new walk-in pantry. When I opened the white hollow-core door my slender little lovely stood at the shelves, the red Toucan Sam clad box dangling at an angle, her hand to her face, having just crammed a handful of the purple, green orange and yellow loops into her mouth. I peer in the box. My parents brought Froot Loops too. Contrary to the Froot Loops never-occur-in-nature color, they’re shaped just like the benign beige Cheerios, only the little guys are fatter and dusted white.
My problem, right? His kids aren’t hiding in the pantry.
“They’re not going to change overnight Mom,” my eleven year-old suggests. “Maybe Lance could meet in the middle, get something a little healthier, like those fruity o’s at Trader Joes or Annie’s Bagel something’s at Natural Grocer.”
Sounds reasonable, but I say. “Still crap.” I’m flat-lipped, indignant.
“Nothing will ever be good enough for you. Will it?”
“It not real food or healthy for you just because it’s got a little whole grain or fewer chemicals. It’s still starch, grease and dead animal.”
“Yeah like the only thing that’s healthy is beans, hemp and green smoothies, right Mom?”
Maybe she’s got a point. You wouldn’t look at the five of us and say oh yeah, those are the gorgeous vegans over there and on that side, those are the listless eaters of crap. Nope. It doesn’t look like that. My partner is lean, beautifully muscular and ‘gets after it’ his daily chores completed with a bounce in his step. And his girls aren’t fat or look listless. They’re bright-eyed beautiful. And they eat crap, carcass and secretions. Why change?
Maybe we don’t really need whole food like fruits, vegetables, grains and beans. What does it look like? Well, I think I’m the one who’s feeling yucky. The one with the extra ten pounds and wants to eat sugar at three in the afternoon, just like everybody else in the country. I’m no paragon of vegan virtue, all radiant and lean. I look decent for my age and trying to be healthy and maybe along the way make a difference for the planet and the animals…
A toast lovelies, to wondering what the hell I’m doing anyway. Maybe crap, carcass and secretions are the way to go.
Love and Lettuce, Kathryn