A look at adult life, health and new hard lessons in the candy aisle
I’ve recently discovered something unsettling about modern life. My phone has turned into my stepmother.
Not the wicked fairy-tale kind. More like the practical, arms-crossed grocery-aisle supervisor who says, “No. You can’t have that.”
Now for the record — and in fairness to my real mother, who is no longer with us — she was not that voice. Quite the opposite. As a kid, I had fruit pies in my lunchbox. I drank sodas freely. If there was a sweet treat within reach, odds were pretty good it would find its way home with me. She didn’t spoil me carelessly; she did it to create joy. I was loved … and I was sugared.
Those fruit pies, by the way, have been the subject of previous columns. They were legendary companions of my youth. Sadly, they are now officially off the menu. A respectful nod to a flaky, glazed era of my life.
Fast forward to 2024. Surgery and a prolonged stretch of antibiotics entered the picture. Those long-term medications tossed my normally functioning immune system like a fresh salad — thoroughly mixed and left operating differently than before.
To be clear, this wasn’t caused by diet. The shift was medication-induced. But in a twist of irony, the aftermath has dictated much of my future diet. Think leafy greens, whole foods, and yes … be very careful with those dressings.
Now I can’t eat with reckless abandon. I have to read ingredient labels. I have to consider consequences. Reactions that never used to happen have introduced themselves, usually late at night, and they are not polite about it.
So there I stood recently in a Folsom grocery store aisle, holding a bag of M&M’s like a hopeful child.
Only this time, instead of Mom smiling and tossing it in the cart, I pulled out my phone — my digital stepmother.
Modern technology allows you to scan a barcode and instantly know whether the food in your hand aligns with your current health reality. It’s remarkable. It’s efficient. It’s also brutally honest.
Scan those ingredient. “No.”
Fine. Chocolate-covered almonds. Almonds are nuts. Nuts are healthy. Surely this is acceptable.
Scan those ingredients again.“No.”
Item after item met the same digital disapproval. By the time I reached the end of the aisle, I felt like I needed a timeout.
Finally, in a moment of desperation, I asked, “What kind of candy bar can I eat?”
The answer came back cold and firm:
“At this time, candy bars should not be included in your intake.”
Grounded.
Of course, I could ignore it. The digital stepmother cannot physically leap out of my hand and confiscate a peanut butter cup. But I would pay for it later. It’s amazing how disciplined a person becomes when midnight consequences are involved.
Here’s what this whole experience has taught me.
This change wasn’t because I lived recklessly on fruit pies and soda — though one could argue I gave it a valiant effort in my youth. It came from necessary medical treatment. But it forced me to examine something most of us take for granted: what we routinely put into our bodies without a second thought.
We live in a world where processed foods fill entire aisles. Marketing convinces us that if something contains oats, nuts, or the word “natural,” it must be good for us. Ingredient lists often look like science fair projects. And yet, we toss these items into our carts because they’re convenient, familiar, and comforting.
If left to my own reasoning, I could build a compelling legal defense for a peanut butter cup. Peanuts? Natural. Cocoa? From a plant. Milk? Straight from a cow. By that logic, it’s practically agricultural.
My digital stepmother remains unimpressed.
And that’s probably a good thing.
Because while I miss the carefree days of fruit pies in my lunchbox, what I’ve gained is awareness. I feel better. I have more consistent energy. I’ve learned that real food — the kind that resembles something that once grew — does a body good.
More importantly, I’ve learned that sometimes life hands you a reset you didn’t ask for. You can grumble about it … or you can grow because of it.
So if you see me in the grocery aisle scanning labels like a detective working a case, don’t worry. I haven’t lost my mind. I’ve just accepted that at this stage of life, wisdom occasionally arrives disguised as restriction.
Turns out, being “spoiled” wasn’t the blessing I once thought it was.
These days, I don’t need unlimited fruit pies.
I need discipline, gratitude for a second chance at better health, and just enough sweetness in life to remember why it’s worth taking care of in the first place.
Bill Sullivan is the co-founding and managing publisher of Folsom Times, a digital product of All Town Media LLC.
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