Sweet Tooth

We didn't have much candy growing up. And by that I mean I didn't know what candy was until I hit kindergarten and some kid had a few sweet tarts in his lunch sack

I mean, sure, we had our sugar, but it came in the form of dried apricots and dipped rhubarb. We had some fruit snacks and Capri Suns in the house, but there were restrictions. 

Serious restrictions. 

At the top of the stairs in our little Minnesota house stood a closet. It was of average hight, color, and general appearance, but we kids knew the truth. Behind those wooden doors was every bit of processed sugar and high fructose corn syrup our house contained. For all intents and purposes, that thing was our Narnia, though Narnia may have been easier to reach. 

This cabinet was not-so-affectionately dubbed "the locked closet" because, well, it was locked. All of the time. I was convinced my mother wore the key around her neck so there was no chance of finding it. 

While we wanted nothing more than to possess the candy, the only way to get anything out of the closet was to go to school. The only time that door was opened was during the lunch packing process. We got one treat form the locked closet a day, and it went straight from the shelf to our brown paper bag.

As a result of my limited sugar access, I became a sugar-obsessed child. When I saw the open box of oreos at a friends house my mind went crazy, and the abandoned 3 Musketeers blew my mind. I didn't have the life perspective to worry about it as a child, but I totally had the makings for an obese candy-hogging adult.

I can't pretend that I've changed.

I am still a sugar-obsessed person, and I know it's an issue. There are days when I would do anything for a piece of chocolate, and I am convinced that a sugar coma is the answer to any problem.

But you guys, don't worry too much, it turns out my sugar-free childhood gave me something to be grateful for: an intolerance for the stuff.

It makes no sense, really. I would do anything for it yet eating too much makes me sick. Seriously. I once threw up from eating too many blue airheads. TMI? Probably. Whateves.

So even though it would kill the kid version of me to hear it, I guess I'm pretty grateful for the locked closet. Without it, who knows where my sugar addiction would be today?