Confessions of a Junk Food Junkie

Earlier this week the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported something I applaud heartily -- a reduction in sugary or salty snacks, and soda and artificial fruit drinks sold at high schools and middle schools. I learned to love both in the New York City Public Schools, but I’ll get to that later.

My friend Mary Ann and I met last night for one of our monthly girls’ nights out. These dinners provide a special opportunity for two professional women to catch up on the latest gossip. Not to mention indulging our taste for foods with the high sugar, salt and fat content we both agree would be harmful to the health of our husbands.

We dined at the Pie Bakery & Café in Newton, Massachusetts. No diet Cokes for us. I felt virtuous getting a bottle of water and she a bottle of sparkling water as the two of us ordered spinach pie with a deliciously flaky crust. I suspect the sodium in the feta cheese accounted for me downing my water pretty quickly.

Right before dinner I stopped in at National Jeans to purchase a pair of black, Paige jeans with the high spandex content I’ve seen modeled by the many college students indigenous to Boston. Though the size 28 zipped with no trouble, I took the size 30 because they felt comfortable when I sat down on the little bench in the fitting room.

The size 30 also allowed me to have the deep-dish apple pie with ultra buttery crust and vanilla ice cream I’d been craving since waking up that morning at 4 a.m. to hit the gym. Mary Ann is more committed to healthy eating, and ordered a less caloric apple pie with oat grain topping and no ice cream.

Granted, neither of us gorges on potato chips or Moon Pies, and if we hadn’t opted for water, I’ll bet we’d have sipped white wine, not soda. Our tastes are a lot more sophisticated than when we went to school. But I can’t resist sharing with you my own memories of sugary and salty foods as a school child:

(1) In first and second grade in Jackson Heights, we ordered milk for snack time. The sugar making the medicine go down was the box of cookies each kid brought from home. If successful in manipulating Mom, I got a package of chocolate covered grahams or Mallomars. If the manipulations failed, I had to settle for Fruitana raisin bars, Fig Newtons, or worse yet, Social Tea Biscuits. The cookies were supposed to “last,” but I usually reported running out before the week was over.

(2) By the time we moved to Forest Hills for fourth grade, I had to eat lunch in school. On those occasions when Mom tried to sneak fruit into my lunch box, I arrived home in a bad mood. My classmate, Bonnie Merzer, always had Yodels in her lunch box, presumably a sign that her mother was more loving than mine.

(3) Potato chips or Cheese Doodles, the ultimate in salty snacks, constituted a “side dish.” Although Mom rarely permitted me to have my favorite, salami on rye bread, which she considered unhealthy, I usually got her to include the requisite bag of Wise potato chips carrying the owl logo consistent with wisdom.

(4) The only beverage sold in my school cafeteria was milk. Though I doubt Mom really fell for my story that the milk might be sour and make me sick, she usually indulged me with sickeningly sweet Hawaiian Punch or Hi-C orange drink masquerading as something healthful. For a special treat I might get root beer flavored Cool Aid or pink lemonade made from frozen concentrate. I made it known that apple juice was not an acceptable substitute.

Is it any wonder I have lousy eating habits? I suppose the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention or their predecessors were more worried about polio vaccinations.