Some people love water. They drink it 24-7. I have always looked at water as something you bath in, swim through, boat over, fish in or make iced tea with. I am not a big fan of drinking water even though it makes up 98% of my body. Juice is good. Cokes are amazing (especially Vanilla Cokes). I used to drink about 10 a day. I am pretty sure I was personally keeping a bottling plant in operation somewhere near Richmond. Now I am under new management and I find myself drinking nothing but juice; still not fond of water.
Same with Pop Tarts.
My affinity for Pop Tarts was legend coast to coast. I ate at least three or four a day, for decades. Kellogg’s stock will suffer, no doubt, because of my recent turn to a Pop Tart-less diet. There are people who can’t remember my name but they know I ate a lot of Pop Tarts.
I would love to eat a Pop Tart right now. But I won’t.
Don’t even get me thinking about salt. For years, if you got between me and a salt-shaker during a meal, you eyes would be burning because I’d go through anything and anyone to pour it on. Salt would fly. I salted everything, salt pork, fruit, even ice cream (only once). You remember how Keith Richards talked about heroin? That was salt for me.
I don’t attend meetings, but I could. “My name is Terry and I’m a salt-o-holic. I have been salt free for almost a month.”
I don’t care what anyone says, you never really stop your addiction to salt. You just have to stop eating it. It is hard to do. I crave it like an opiate. Cigarettes are notoriously hard to quit and drugs and alcohol have the Betty Ford Clinic, but salt-o-holics are all alone with our granular jones. I can taste salt by just typing the word. I have to stop typing now.
