Something About Candy

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I guess the ladies of SFWG are all in sugar shock from trick or treat, because this week’s blog prompt is “Say something about CANDY.” Hmm, empty calories with lots of sugar. Pretty much my favorite kind of food.

It’s funny, how people feel about candy. You know, with most foods, you don’t necessarily like them, but for the most part, you eat them because you know you should. Except for the odd broccoli phobia, people don’t get that emotionally involved in decisions about fruit and veggies. And while some people do get all tied in knots about the ethics of meat, its generally an all or nothing thing. Either you eat most any meat accepted in your background culture, or you don’t eat any meat at all. (Having been raised by a country-bred Southern Baptist grandma, I’m of the ‘If God didn’t mean for us to eat them, they wouldn’t be made of meat’ school. But, as usual, I digress.)

Candy, though. People get all riled up if you disagree with them on candy. Now, my youngest DD is one of those extremely rare females who just doesn’t care for chocolate. (I know, hard to believe.) It isn’t so much that she can take it or leave it, it is that she truly doesn’t like chocolate. And you can imagine the reaction this gets from most people. “Not like chocolate?” they shriek, as if she announced that she doesn’t like pictures of fluffy puppies and kittens. Nope, she doesn’t like it. It’s not a moral failing; it’s just a taste preference.

My husband and I have similar issues on the rare occasions when we buy candy. I like tart — Sweetarts, sour gummies, pixy stix. He, on the other hand, likes things like Atomic Fireball Jawbreakers and those mushy orange marshmallowy peanut things. Note that I refrained from saying ‘those NASTY mushy orange etc. etc.’ But you could all tell that’s what I meant.

Candy is divisive. If DH likes something like mushy orange peanuts, it is hard not to argue with him about it. And he seems to think that one day, if he keeps arguing, he will convince me that sour fruit candies are disgusting.

Maybe it’s because it’s election season, and I’m feeling like that little girl on YouTube who is crying because she’s tired of Bronco Bama and Mitt Womney. But I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m going to stop at Target and buy DH a big bag of those nasty mushy orange peanuts. Just cause, while I hate them, I love him. And after all, de gustibus non disputandum.

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