My primary deep fried potato challenge in Ruffles, All Dressed Flavour. I was at the
As I drove home I kept looking with guilt at the bag. I justified away. It is only one bag, not two like the sale could have rationalized, I do not have to eat them all at once. I can give some to the boys. I pulled into the left hand turn lane at a light and as I sat waiting, I read the sign of the homeless man on the meridian. "Broke, Hungry. Anything helps" In a moment of pure impulse I lowered my window, reached over and handed over the chips saying "they're all yours", he thanked me, tucked them behind his sign and I raised my window.
A cascade of emotions rushed through me, I was giddy with them. Relieved that I would not be eating the chips, oddly guilty that I gave them to someone who could likely have used a much more nutritious option, surprise that I would give anything to the meridian sitter at all.
It took some time for me to come down of this odd high. I am still conflicted - proud and shamed, guilty and relieved. What a strange relationship I have with this crappy bag of fried starch and artificial flavour. In a house where food is important and we believe in minimally processed, fresh, healthy food most of the time why does this little oval disc of potato hold such power?
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