Exhibit C: The Ban on Candy

I was going to follow up my Thanksgiving post with Christmas, but seeing as how it's Easter this weekend I decided that a candy post would be more appropriate.  I'll save Christmas for it's appropriate season. 
So...candy at our house was a huge rarity.  At least when I was little.  We got some at Valentine's, from school, some at Halloween, from our neighbors and we made our own for Christmas.  And that was pretty much it.  There were a few reasons for this.  One, sugar is bad for you.  And two, we didn't have dental insurance and couldn't afford to get cavities. 
My parents fancied themselves "health food nuts" long before the whole organic craze got started.  Refined sugar, including white bread, was strictly frowned upon.  No sugary cereals for us.  Our average breakfasts included: Oatmeal, Shredded Wheat biscuits (if you are unfamiliar with these let me assure you they are a far cry from Frosted Mini Wheats.  Here's a picture, so you can fathom what I am talking about)

also common for breakfast was Cream of Wheat and Grits (no butter or sugar added).  IF we were lucky occasionally we would get plain Cheerios or Wheat Chex.  So now you know how pristine our colons were.  My mother would make all our bread.  There were good batches and bad batches, but we never had enough bread pans, so she used the tins the yeast came in to bake our bread.  They looked like this:

 

Consequently our bread was cylindrical, with a bulbous top.  You can imagine what this looked like, if you want.  The round, clearly home made slices were infinitely embarrassing for me when I took my lunch to school.  Now, gum, gum was an unforgiveable sin.  I mean this literally, it was never allowed, never even spoken of.  I assumed that chewing gum would lead to eternal damnation and was on level with recreational drug use.  Also, that it was fabulously expensive.  Really, my mom just wanted to avoid getting gum in the carpet and having school pictures like this:

 

Unnamed sibling

 Of course, I had to have it.  I remember once chewing some gum I found on the underside of a table in a restaurant when I was six.  I'm super grossed out by this now, but at six I just thought "hey, free gum!"  When I was eight I decided I had to have the real thing.  I saved my biweekly allowance of $5 for EIGHT MONTHS to do this.  This was real premeditated gum-chewing.  Chewing in the first degree.  One balmy summer afternoon I snuck off to the 7/11 that was two blocks away.  It isn't hard to sneak out when you have seven siblings.  As my parents would learn to their great dismay when we were teenagers.  I still remember the dude behind the counter.  He was overweight, balding with a bushy moustache.  He was about to become my bubble gum dealer.  I casually looked over the selection of gums.  The syrup filled Dr. Pepper Hubba Bubba was my destiny.

I walked quickly with my selection up to the counter.  I slid the gum across to my dealer.  Along with the 16 five dollar bills that were rolled together in my back pocket.  I looked furtively over my shoulder to make sure my mother hadn't followed me.  It seemed clear.  The gas station attendant only paused for a moment.  Then placed my purchase and $79.50 into a brown paper bag and slid it back to me.  Clearly he was used to dealing with undersugared 8 year olds looking to score some gum.  I ran all the way home.  I didn't even go inside.  I ran around to the backyard, my heart beating a mile a minute.  I hid under our large lilac bush and chewed all five pieces one after another until the flavor ran out.  THEN I dug a hole and buried the evidence and went inside.  My mother was never the wiser.  All this could have been avoided if I was allowed to have Lucky Charms once in a while. 
My first visit to the dentist occurred when I was 19.  NINETEEN!  I had zero cavities.  Because of my sugar-free youth, I maintained a perfect dental record until two years ago.  They should give out awards for that. 
On Easter, we dyed eggs.  Real hard boiled eggs in vinegar dye.  Then my parents hid them around our yard and we searched for them.  Often finding last years eggs too, because my dad never counted and acted like he was hiding them from bloodhounds.  The real fun of Easter was dyeing eggs.  It became somewhat competitive (what?!?) but usually my sister Nana had the prettiest ones.  I wish I had some pictures of the eggs she painted.