Taste Buds

Something has changed and I’m a bit worried. It’s taken me a little while to figure it out, but I think I’ve put my fingers on it.

Things taste different.

I’m not sure when this actually happened, or honestly, if I should be concerned. So I decided that I’ll do a very unscientific historical comparative analysis to see if I should ignore this and carry on or call up the Center for Disease Control…

In the past, I can remember waking up on a Saturday morning to watch cartoons and pour myself a bowl of Sugar Coated Chocolate Bombs – the one with the extra goodness of marshmallows for a touch of variety. Combine that with a grape jelly sandwich and two litres of orange and apple juice and I would be ready to seize the day. Not have a seizure, just seize the day…oh, never mind. And no, this wasn’t last weekend.

Later, during my University days and working with a landscaping company, there were days when I was up early for work and grabbing leftover pizza for breakfast. After working for a few hours, I’d stop for lunch at the corner store and have a foot-long hoagie sandwich chock full of mystery meat, a bag of chips and a drink the size of a small swimming pool. This would hold me until dinner which may or may not have consisted of actual food – mostly a jug of draft beverage and whatever was the cheapest pub food on the menu.

Those were great days. Everything tasted great and I could indulge without worrying. Even better, I could follow the same pattern for weeks at a time without feeling the least bit sick or at all guilty.

Fast forward a few years – just a couple, honest – and throw in a marriage, kids and a few moves and new careers. Suddenly, almost overnight, clothes don’t seem to fit, mystery meat sandwiches start looking far too mysterious and the swimming pool drinks become too much to handle.

The doctor says I have to start watching what I eat. I tell him I always watch. If I don’t either my kids or my dogs will steal my food off my plate. I think my doctor has asthma – he always seems to sigh and take a deep breath when I’m with him.

Anyway. Nowadays, I’ve realized that almost everything I used to revel in and eat as often as possible just doesn’t do it for me. Mint chocolate chip ice cream used to be a favourite but not anymore. I had a bowl last week and had to settle my tummy with some plain yogurt. Plain yogurt! A dairy product that has fermented and grown all sorts of bacteria, and here I am, preferring it over ice cream!

Which begs the question – when yogurt goes bad, how can you tell? A cultural question indeed.

Milk chocolate anything used to make me happy. Milk chocolate candy bars, chocolate coated peanuts and raisins, chocolate dipped toast, it didn’t matter, everything went better with chocolate.

Now, frighteningly, milk chocolate is the last thing I look for. It hurts my tongue, makes my teeth ache and gives me heartburn and that darn yogurt comes out of the fridge again. Thank goodness for dark chocolate – that still satisfies without hurting. Only a couple of pieces at a time, though.

Triple burgers with the works plus extra bacon and cheese, extra large fries and the double thick milkshakes are things of the past. Make it a large salad with grilled chicken or salmon and a glass of water, now that’s a meal! Follow up with a small fruit salad for dessert and the evening is complete.

Oh no! Can it be true? Has the worst thing ever happened to me?!? Have I, gulp, GROWN UP?? Tell me it isn’t true!