Finally someone who understands me

I have just finished a memoir entitled Candy and Me-A Girl's Tale of Life, Love and Sugar, by Hilary Liftin.









This book had me at candy. I devoured it in one sitting. Pun intended.

Like the author, I have had a love affair with candy from the day we met. I can't imagine a life without candy in it. It is an addiction as real as alcohol or other "drugs" yet it is not looked down upon. I imagine the cure to this addiction would be to give it up altogether as happens with other addicts trying to be clean, but I truly can't imagine ever doing that. It is a love hate relationship. I love it and I crave it but when I eat it, especially in quantities beyond what I should have eaten, the hate begins.

This was the first passage that really spoke to me personally, as I know exactly how she feels. She was discussing a birthday party she attended, and unsure of what sort of gift might be appropriate, she decided to gift an entire shoebox filled with all sorts of candy dumped in. She writes,

 "For everyone else this indulgence was a novelty that came and went, but I was acutely aware of where the box was in the room, how much candy remained, and how soon it would make its way back to me. I wouldn't stop eating until it was empty, and feared that someone would notice my single-mindedness. It was the first time I had an inkling that others were easily distracted from sweets by more central events, where for me, the distraction of sweets was the main event."

Finally. Someone who understands me.

And later, on willpower to do the right thing:

"Willpower is not black and white. I exercise willpower on every trip to the grocery store, but no checkout person watching my selections bump down the conveyor belt would believe it. What I hope for, one day, is to be free of the need for willpower. I didn't need willpower to avoid heroin. I had no natural desire for it. I didn't need willpower to avoid meat. I ate it when I wanted, in whatever quantity I desired. Willpower is a denial of desire. It can be partial ("I'm not having dessert today") or absolute ("I'm not having dessert ever") but it is always self-denial. I don't want to curb desire. I want either to indulge it or eradicate it."

This passage really speaks to me because every trip "out" is a test of willpower. If I go to a gas station or a grocery store, there are so many temptations that must be refused to get through the trip that it can feel overwhelming. The willpower required to not buy the wrong things and indulge those desires has to be very strong. If I am weak in any way, I will give in and buy a donut, or a candy bar, or a forbidden in the house no-no like Oreos. There are certain things that just can't come in this house, and those include Oreos, the only store bought cookie worth eating to me, Golden Grahams, and candy. Because if a bag of candy is bought, whatever package it comes in is the serving size. There is no saving for later. And judging on the amount of peanut butter I just ate for my dinner tonight and the stomach rumblings in response to that, I might just have to add peanut butter to that list. So as she states, when that conveyor belt pulls my selections toward the checker and it doesn't have any sweets lying on it, it is a big win for me, although the checker might not see the internal battles I fought to make those decisions.

Hilary seals the deal with me when she confesses that she loves the old-fashioned marshmallow egg. My friends, this rare gem is my favorite. You know, around Easter it used to pop up, though nowadays it's hard to find. A thick colorful candy coating on the outside, and inside, the dense marshmallow filling that is pure sugar grittiness? They used to come all loose in a bag but now they are usually individually wrapped and then put in a bag. My sister used to trade me hers for whatever she liked at the annual dump-your-basket-on-the-carpet-and-let's-see-what-we-each-got-and-need-to-trade event, which happened shortly after Easter or Halloween, and I gladly accepted the trade.

I can't say this was a self-help book in any way, as I strongly desired all sorts of different candies upon finishing the book, but it is an honest portrayal of a woman's struggle to find an acceptable place for candy to fit in her life, as well as a look back at her life and how different candies defined different times in  her life, much as a song takes you to a certain time or place when you hear it on the radio. Jolly rancher sticks (you know those long flat ones?) will always remind  me of my friend Anne and I riding to the Corner Market and buying small brown paper bags full of candy and coming home to eat it all at once on my swingset. Taffy sticks (you know those long flat ones in wax paper?) will always remind me of the town fair. Middle school=large chewy SweeTarts, and Fun Dips. Nerds in a box with a popout spout, one flavor on each side of the box. Big League Chew, and volcano rocks popping in your mouth. My dad buying us tubes of Necco Wafers. At Christmas, the storybook box with rolls of Life Savers inside. The candy cane of M&M's.The giant Hershey's Kiss. Then High School. How exciting Jelly Bellies were. Alison and I would go the mall just to select bags with all sorts of different flavors in them.  Boxes of Junior Mints always at the movies. Pixy Stix and Circus Peanuts.

And I could go on and on. What is proved to me, I guess, is that it's not all that crazy this love affair I have with candy. It defines your life, past and present, and helps you remember a lot of good memories all candy coated and sweet. And that's really not a bad thing, now is it?