candy candy candy

"I am a little piece of chocolate
expensive and mean
no nutritional values have I
you may have me
once in a while
I will make you smile

You are a fifty pound bag of soybeans
more than a bargain to me
you take hours to cook
you have serious taste
you make me sob"

My parents were remarkable at changing their tastes for the better. I mean, I remember hearing rumours of how my dad used to love a good steak and how they used to go out for these rich rich dinners. But as early as I can remember it was brown rice, and health food stores with large large bins every kind of bean, grain and dried fruit imaginable. Alterations on traditional recipes to remove refined sugar, processed grains, salts. Very dissapointing macaroni and cheese that somehow involved wheatgerm.
And they liked it and loved it and talked about how they didn't even like the taste of white rice or crave any fatty meats or white bread any more. And they were healthy. Boy o boy. And happy. My parents, to this day, a happy healthy couple.
And I ponder this. I mean, I can recall a point in time in which I craved candy like it was happiness in a lollipop. But it should come as a surprise to no one that sooner than later, even though I ate fruitloops by the gallon in college, even though I pounded nachos and pringles and hushpuppies as soon as I could, that I've learned, in my adult life, to love tastes that are good for me to.
And I think about the days when these tastes were a compromise, when I really wanted a bowl of chow fun but instead ate a salad or some bulgur wheat, and when that changed from something that substituted to something that satisfies.
And it makes me think of all the healthy things we teach ourselves to want, to need, to desire.
Just as the young girl must outgrow her desire for the badboy, we must learn to not desire candy morning moon and night. MMM MMM tofu, boy I love me some tofu. And I mean it, I really do, though sometimes I mourn the desire for all things fatty and sugary and gleefully bad for me.

And so it should not surprise anyone that I have, though I fought it tooth and nail, pretty much grown up to be the embodiment of a healthy desire. I mean I drank and did drugs and made stupid stupid choices with scary scary men and somehow I am,now, still a healthy tasty meal. A wise choice all around. Not a meal a man craving a steak would choose, but a meal a man who has learned to love his fruit and grain and lean meats and well seasoned vegetables.
And I understand it.

Yet, sometimes I look at him and I see the boy within, and every little bit of me aches to be a little piece of chocolate.One of those beautiful shiny candies with gold dust and fancy little designs. If even for a moment.