I’m traveling and ate at a restaurant. Nothing special, a vegetarian Thai place in Ventura, California. The food tasted sweet and felt slightly sticky.
After I finished, I asked the waitress if they added sugar. The answer was yes, but she didn’t have the courage to answer directly. She said something like, “they might have added something.”
I didn’t want sugar added.
I realize I live in a world where people eat so much sugar that sweetened things don’t taste sweetened to them since they’re so used to it, which probably contributes to the world’s growing obesity rates. Restaurants probably feel they’d lose business without sweetening their food.
I feel violated by the restaurant for sneaking unhealthy additives that may increase sales but worsen my life.
I’m not saying I feel violated like the victim of a violent crime, but someone invaded my bodily integrity, sacrificing my health for their profit.
On the positive side, feeling repugnance at sugar reinforces how far I’ve come with avoiding it. I remember as a kid eating plain sugar cubes. In graduate school I couldn’t resist buying ice cream. Later I couldn’t resist buying chips and pretzels.
Now added sugar evokes disgust. I’m glad. I would not have expected such a change, but I’m happier this way, even if it means losing touch with what America considers normal—added sugar and obesity. Unlike, I suppose, most Americans judging by what they buy, I don’t like being overweight or obese and do like the taste of vegetables.
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