July 20, 2008

• …I am on the wagon. It has been three four long, tense days since I’ve had one, and I’m beginning to feel slightly desperate, so maybe it’s time to join a support group. Does anyone know of a chapter of Potato Chip Eaters’ Anonymous????

  I love potato chips. There, I admit it. I’ve said it out loud, announced it to all xangaland. I don’t just like them a lot; I have an ardent, flaming, passionate romance with the crispy morsels of yumminess. And like most aholics, I’m not picky. I love plain ones, smooth ones, wavy ones, barbecued, vinegared, cheesy, fried, baked, formed from who-knows-what, cheap, expensive, fresh or stale, imported or exported, New England-style, Southwestern style, any style that can be bought by a woman in need….I love them all!

  Like so many adult issues, this unhealthy relationship goes back to my childhood. When my brothers and I were kids, Mom let us eat chips with our bologna sandwiches any old time we wanted to. She neglected to tell us of the facts of life….that there is absolutely no redeeming value to this particular food group and that eating them is quite habit-forming. I’m not blaming my mother, but she really did nothing to stop my growing (no pun intended) problem.

  Through the years, there were others, either knowingly or unwittingly–I can’t really say– who helped perpetuate my addiction. One person, in particular, was a certain baby-sitter who stayed with us from time to time. I won’t name names because it is dangerous to finger-point in a small town (who knows what she’d say about me?), but I’ll just say that this “Pam” taught me a fancy potato-chip trick or two, including the fact that there is more than one way to dip besides the traditional and always delectable sour-cream/onion mixture. A dollop of ketchup works really well in a pinch. Her serving dish of choice? A saucer: fill the circle in the middle with ketchup and then overlap the perfect little circles of salty, oily deliciousness all around the edge. What a pretty picture it made!

  When I was about 11 and she was worldly-wise at 14, “Pam” and I sat out on my old front porch one day and talked about the deep meaning of life. Our discussion turned to food. “If you were stranded on a desert island and could have only one single thing to eat, what would you choose?” I asked her.

  Without hesitation came “Pam’s” answer: “Potato chips!” And of course, I agreed whole-heartedly. They were already my number one choice of snack food, side dish and midnight treat; who would even think of living on an island without them? And since I idolized “Pam” with a pre-teen’s heroine-worship, in those two succinct words, she sealed my fate. I’d love potato chips forever if “Pam” loved them.

  Years went by, and my addiction grew. I became a mother and, alas, failed to teach my own children of the harmful effects of indulging. They all grew up eating potato chips alongside their sandwiches, whatever the filling, and each one has in turn become somewhat of an addict, too. And now that there are grandchildren in the picture, this threatens to become a three-generation problem. When two-year-old Lucy was visiting last week, I could see the signs: she managed to open the pantry door all by herself and, passing over the Oreos, fruit snacks, and cereal bars, picked up the bag and proudly said, “Mimi, I need chips!” I’d forgotten to hide them in my usual secret place.

  I’ve tried many times down through the years to give up potato chips. I’ve taken a vow in front of the mirror (after trying to zip up my jeans that suddenly seem to have shrunk), I’ve written in my journal about my determination, I’ve read everything I could find about the ill effects, and I’ve given myself pep talks as I walked down the chip aisle at the grocery store, (I will NOT buy chips today! I will NOT buy chips today!) But my feeble, half-hearted efforts have all been to no avail. So I think it is finally time to say that I cannot do this on my own.

  Just where and when does PCEA meet????

  • 9:25 pm
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