Glumly, I waddled out of director Stephanie Soechtig’s (produced and narrated by Katie Couric) prescient documentary about the perils of sugar; determined not to write about it, but after two weeks of it creepily, crawling around in my conscience, bit the bagel and sallied forth to my trusty “live writer”. Commencing with the utmost truth: I love anything sweet, as a child ate dinner, only for the sublime aphrodisiac promised at the finale.
“Fed Up” blasts the sugar industry for hiding behind “fat free” labels; there lurks the deadly, insidious grain; responsible for the burgeoning weight of children worldwide, heart disease, diabetes; it is addictive, and the film focuses on preteens cursed with the stigma of obesity, even resorting to gastric bypass surgery. Government fails the test, needing the massive contributions of “Coca Cola” and other food lobbyists to further their tenure in office. Even Michelle Obama, who has campaigned for slimmer and healthier choices in school cafeterias, softened her stance when mega- industries started to roar.
At its heart is the disastrous change of lifestyle in the last 40 years: fast food is ubiquitous, women work, television plays on the appetites of “latch key” kids, watching and eating; the internet has robbed today’s young of physical activity; yes, poorer families are heavier than the more financially solvent.
All true, but the thought of the dour moods sugar has erased, nothing like a frosted long -john, fruit infused bismarck, a box of milk duds to feel the dirge of depression lift; brownies have cured the cruelest of winter days, a missed flight, a broken heart; a movie without Good & Plenty’s? Sacrilege!
Addiction is key; I defy anyone to eat just one M&M, gummy bear, chocolate covered raisin. Possibly, I have been charmed; my entire life has been coated with sugar but I missed most childhood diseases, the common cold and flu have never dashed my days; comforting, that I still have my tonsils, appendix, most of my teeth and genuine good health.
Woefully, left “Fed Up”, my sugar rolls a perpetual reminder of what my liver can no longer process; so, to cure the demoralization of a tiresome, repetitious, honest tale, consumed an oatmeal cookie, instead of a slice of lemon meringue pie. I was happy and satisfied with my choice.