Get Behind Me, Sugar

I was thinking about sugar this morning. Specifically, my relationship with it. There’s a series of four jars on my kitchen counter and I was thinking about how the sugar in the sugar jar has been in there for two years now. I don’t use the sugar from the jar very often because the mouth of the jar is not quite large enough to accomodate a measuring cup so at this point it’s almost purely ornamental.

As I brushed my teeth I pondered at the derelict state of my sugar and wondered if sugar could get stale. This led me to wonder if it was all clumpy and whether this problem could be alleviated by just stirring it up a bit (I promise this is going somewhere). As I was imagining a spoon stirring up the sugar I was reminded of how when I was younger I would do just about anything for a whole spoon of sugar all to myself.

Now, if tempted with a spoon of sugar in my present state, I would more than likely politely decline and walk quickly away from the spoon-holding sugar samaritan. What’s changed? I’m intensely curious to know exactly when sugar went from a tempting culinary diversion to something not fit to be eaten alone.

For the record, I still love candy of almost all kinds (except Fast Breaks. I never got into those because they’re just all-around too squishy for my taste) and this makes walking down the street dangerous. You never know when a stranger is going to offer you a candy you just can’t refuse. Me and candy, we’re still good friends and have been since I grew my first tooth.

Sugar, however, has been demoted from General of the Confectionary Delights Brigade to the guy scrubbing toilets with a vegetable peeler because he was too hung over to make his bed. When did this happen, I wonder. How does a kid who would just about amputate her own foot for some quality alone time with a bag of sugar turn into this comparatively prudish young woman who scrunches her nose when confronted with the thought of licking a spoon that’s been used to stir sugar-chunks? It’s like some days you wake up and don’t even know who’s looking back at you from the mirror anymore, you know?

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