It would not be far off the mark to say that I have measured out my life in gummi bears.
I discovered gummi bears when I was 7, my first purchase with pfennigs in the little shop on the corner on Richard Wagner Strasse in our town in Germany. Such a satisfyingly chewy thing, gummy type candies, while ruminating on a question, or reward at a punctuation point of work, or mindless comfort while flying. I’ve been known to eat too many (“black licorice is NOT a toy,” my ex would admonish when I had a sore tummy from too much; “put them in the glove box!” she ordered when I discovered aussie soft raspberry chews when we were in New Zealand.
I do get tummy aches, and just way too much sugar, and sometimes yeast infections, from the steady intake of candy, most afternoons. And my weight has been inching up. So “for Lent” this year, I gave it up.
March 21 was four weeks without candy, four weeks of successfully kicking the afternoon sugar habit. One teeny, tiny little inroad into better eating.
I eyed these and photographed them and then… sighed and walked away.