The danger of putting it off

One of the principle differences between  adults and children is the ability to delay the gratification of their needs. Er, the adults, that is. Well, mostly anyway. Children become frustrated when what they want is not presented to them momentarily; while adults generally go on seeing to the children's needs for, well, for ever and don't actually get around to addressing their own wants, desires, cravings.

But sometimes, the adults among us neglect, or ignore, our inner cravings, children or no. Take the dedicated dieter, for instance. The Dieter is a perfect example of an adult denying the longings and desires of their inner skinny person. The more the internal hungry entity screams for chocolate, the more the outer adult shuts them up with loud music, gym classes and celery. Until, one day, the two of them happen to trip up on a KitKat and land head first in a big bowl of Gino Ginelli's Chocolate Milano. And this, I believe, is the danger of postponing the gratification of the adult's needs - the longer you do it for, the harder you fall.

This is my story about my monosodium glutamate dependency:

For sometime now I have been craving the MSG fix I get only from Ster-Kinekor's movie popcorn. Sure, I have several bottles of salt and vinegar flavouring in my larder, but they just don't seem to have the same effect as cinema purchased popcorn. On researching my addiction, I came across a very interesting theory that the only "natural" foodstuff that has the same effect on the taste receptors which respond (in my case) so exuberantly to MSG, is caviar.

Seeing as I had been quietening my inner monster for some time, and not having any caviar lying about, I was desperately seeking my fix. Unable to contain the beast any longer, I arrived at the Tygervalley Mall first thing this morning to get my hit. Like a zombie I handed over the exorbitant amount of money required to purchase the staple food of most poverty-stricken African countries, and headed over to the flavouring counter, unaware of the extortion I had just become victim to.

The jar of Salt and Vinegar flavouring glowed in the reflection of the flourescent mall lights. It called to me. I could not resist it. Generously, I sprinkled the miracle powder on my popcorn. I could not bear waiting another moment, so I shoved a couple of morsels into my mouth. I was disappointed. Being the first customer of the day, I had been given an overflowing box of last night's popcorn. Too anxious for the MSG buzz to take hold, I saved the time it would have gone to complain to management, get them to make up a fresh batch and get me tripping, that I took the matter into my own hands: I assaulted the popcorn with another bountiful sprinkling of magic powder. Again, I sampled my drug. The popcorn I put in my mouth was now yellow with flavouring, and tasted super! I shook the jar a couple of times more, just for luck. I was ready to feed the beast that had been crying out for so long. 

Seating myself in the cinema (oh, by the way, I went to watch a movie by myself which I just haven't done in years and that was sort of nice), I was ready. I had my box of Salt and Vinegar flavouring with popcorn on it, and thus armed, I started to polish off my poison. The first (real) mouthful should have been the "head's up" for me, but I was too intoxicated to take note. As I brought the popcorn to my mouth, I breathed in. A cloud of flavourant settled in my lungs and I started to cough. Violently. 

The lady behind me leaned forward. "You ok?" she asked.

"I'll be fine!" I gasped. I gulped down a swig of water from the bottle I had thankfully brought with me.

I was cautious with the next handful. "Don't breathe in! Whatever you do, don't breathe in!" I told myself. It worked. For a while. After a while, however, I became so engrossed in the film, that my conversation with myself was put on hold. I breathed in. The next episode of uncontrollable coughing ensued.

The lady behind me informed me she was a paramedic and knew CPR. Just in case I needed it.

I smiled as convincingly as I could and, once again, reassured her that I would be fine. My water was finished. There was no saliva left in my mouth. It had dried up about 10 minutes into the movie. With every fiber in my being I summoned up the strength needed to bring the pulmonary spasm under control - only because it's really hard to eat when you're coughing like that.

The rest of the popcorn was consumed without incident. A cupful of flavouring had escaped the folds at the bottom of the carton and collected in my lap. It took me a good 40 seconds to dust off the evidence of my binge.

I was high by the time the movie ended (can't remember much of it, by the way, so please don't ask), and it was in this euphoric state that I headed off to collect the kids from school. As usual, I brought them home for lunch before the afternoon activities got underway.

Now most days, I join my girls for lunch, but this afternoon was different. Firstly, and understandably, I was full of starch, so not really hungry. But even taking a bite out of the sandwich that T-Bird insisted I test because she thought it was "Yucky", felt weird. I had begun to loose sensation in my tongue.

Since then it's just gotten worse. My tongue, whilst having lost all sense of taste, feels on fire. It honestly feels like hedgehogs have wrestled on it, pinning each other down in violent, scraping maneuvers. On inspection (thanks to the nurse in me), my tongue is visibly redder than usual. It looks like it might be peeling a bit at the back. And it's swollen. I think it's starting to affect my speech too. It actually hurts to speak.

So, what did I learn from quelling my inner cravings for so long? Next time that MSG ache hits, I'm opening me a tin of caviar. Dependencies do tend to become expensive habits, don't they?