copyright © 2004 Cadry Nelson

Sweet Celebration…No Occasion Necessary

By Cadry Nelson


Delaney: So I’m seeing this carrot. I know what you’re thinking--Delaney, a carrot? You? You’re usually chasing a hunk of cheesecake or Senor Flan or hell, if the Ten High gets the best of me even a crème pie. (Once. Come on.) But this time it’s true. I’ve given up the empty calories for the "A" of a sweet carrot. Ordinary perhaps, but so very good for me. My skin is clear, the bounce in my step--steady, and with my much improved vision I can see things as they really are. I’m in the zone. Welcome to the salad days with a crisp carrot by my side and enough ranch dip to make things interesting.

Now, this isn’t to say that when I go into a sweets store I don’t still feel tempted, urges. (LOOKS AT ENORMOUS BASKIN ROBBINS PICTURE; DELANEY POSING WITH CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM CAKE) We meet again, big boy. Remember me? I see those delectable chocolate frosted cakes, dripping of sticky sweetness and my stomach does growl…a bit. Hungry. It knows how good that first taste can be. Dig in and rawr! The icing–invigorating, the sugar rush--almost addictive. Oh, this is how it was-- On a Saturday night I was looking for the best cherry topping I could find--attain, devour, lick up the last drop. Then soak in the sweetness of the glorious high. Woowie! Woo…wie. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Tick. Time passes, energy level drops. Drip, drops, drip, drops. Drops. Sunday morning, I’m calling my best friend and feeling very comic strip Cathy. "Aaack!" I’ve crashed, last night’s energy-- zapped. I thought I was full, but now I want more. I think I’m hypoglycemic. My metabolic rate all over the place -- from the soaring of the sugared sweetness to the sadness of the sinking, shrinking crash. No more of that! Absolutely, unequivocally, no siree bon…bon. No siree, bon bon. With a carrot, I can live with myself. With a carrot, I can feel proud that I’m not being self-defeating. With a carrot--okay, sure, he’s prone to withering and occasional limpness, but that’s normal. Right? With a carrot I’m assured that he is very good for me and I am in the best health of my life.

For years my male friends, most of them veggies themselves, have always told me, "Women! Women! They say they want a nice, stable string bean, but when the shi-zat hits the fan the squash gets squashed. What women really want are the Sugar Daddies and the Slo Pokes." But hey, you there, string bean, men do it too. They go out searchin’ for the honeys, when they’d probably find more stability and honesty with some nice eda-mommy. Look at yourself and get real. Who is the vegetable inside you? Are you really just fluff and filling, or are you something more? You know what? I looked, and I saw that I’m a carrot too. I’m not saying I’m the type to want to make baby carrots anytime soon or really even ever. But I’m not a milkshake or a cupcake or a sweetie pie. I have substance and I seek substance; otherwise, I’m like millions of others, looking for happiness in a Milk Dud and ending up not satiated, still hungry, and emptier than ever. So come on, crudités, with your antioxidants and lycopene. Drop that Ding Dong and let’s do this thing!



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