Loosing the Taste

Zingers are like Twinkies (yellow cake with white stuff in the middle) but with a yellow icing on top. I used to love them as a teenager; I’d eat them after school or after work with a carton of milk. After my teenage years, I lost track of the snack for a decade or so. Then a few years ago, I rediscovered them in a convenience store I had stopped at on my way back from my hometown.

Then they became a regular ritual, of a sort, while driving to and from my hometown. Not every store carried them, so I had to remember where I’d found them along the route. It became a game of a sort. Eating a pack of Zingers (three cakes) was something I had to do either coming or going, or I felt like I was missing something in my journey.

But after a couple years of this ritual, it started to dawn on me: they really aren’t as good as I remember. They weren’t worth the effort I was putting into finding them. I didn’t want to give them up because they were a little connection I still had with my youth, and rituals (habits) are hard enough to break without the nostalgia hook. But over the past year, I’ve found myself only eating one or two of the three cakes.

Eventually I did break the habit, and I just gave up on them. But after several months without one, I’d forget why I stopped getting them, and I’d get another pack. I did that the last time I came home from my hometown. I ate the first one and actually found it disgusting. I felt sad about it. I wanted so much to like them, but I really couldn’t fool myself any longer.

I think that last taste has probably cemented the resolution to just leave them alone forever. I’m disappointed and saddened to give up on a taste from my youth, but either the cakes have gone bad or my taste has changed too much. Either way, I’m letting this part of my youth-extended die off and become just a memory.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com