Browinie Goodness

I tried the Fiber One 90 calorie brownie today.  The individual wrapping appeared very large, but once opened, I quickly discovered the brownie inside was half the size of the package.  As if there's not enough wasted plastic in our landfills.  My first taste told me it was low calorie.  Jello is low calorie.  This was....bland.

It reminded me of when I was younger and my mother would bring home these odd cookies and snacks in a green package labeled as Snackwells.  Your first bite told you it was totally devoid of fat or sugar, the things that make cookies and cake so desirable.  I hated those Snackwells cookies.  And now I had a whole box of brownie wanna be's.

There was no chewy center or flaky, crunchy top.  There was merely an odd after taste of whatever it is they use to try to make the thing taste good.  I miss brownies.  I had become jealous of Patti when she told me she'd baked up a pan of the evil chocolate cakes, for everyone to enjoy over the weekend.  Patti stopped and froze, rolled her eyes.  "I ate the entire pan."  She rolled her eyes again.
"Over the weekend?" I asked.
"On Saturday."


My poor mother tried, to instill healthy eating habits without creating a complex.  She kept healthful snacks around, but gave us the choice.  Dad, on the other hand, ate whatever he damn well pleased with no fear of consequence so there was always plenty of junk food around.  I rarely blame my parents for how I am, but in this case, yes I will blame my father for my unhealthy love of Cheetos.

Mom was once borderline anorexic.  If she had not stopped what she was doing, she would have quickly spiraled into a frail waif instead of merely appearing thin.  She said Dad kept telling her to eat, over and over.  She got so sick of hearing him, she finally decided to eat a little.  She never got fat again and that was 30 years ago. 

My sister and I grew up on quick meals of frozen pizza, mac & cheese from a box, and canned biscuits with gravy.  My parents worked so I relied on my sister to cook something that didn't come in the form of a Hot Pocket.  My sister is working on the latter part of her thirties and still can't cook, God bless her.  My parents did the best they could and when both work, one can faithfully rely on packaged foods to help keep everyone fed. 

My mother did cook on the weekends, large farm-style dinners with mashed potatoes, battered & fried meats and gravy.  It's not like she never cooked and she felt we deserved a reward type meal for having eaten out of packages for the week.  All too often, I rewarded myself a little too much.

And now I am paying for it.