15 June 2007
i've never understood those people who get all wishy-washy nostalgic when the ephemera of their youth comes back in vogue. why cry over platform wedgies? why lament the return of gaucho pants as a sign of your own mortality? (aside from the fact that gaucho pants are heinous and should not be worn by anyone under seven feet tall.) though i am a fan of most all things frivolous, this sentimentality has always seemed a bit too gauche- even for me.*
then i had an epiphany, courtesy of jell-o pudding. i'm a big friend of puddings, and have been since the cheerleader moved out in the spring of 2001 and i inherited my own mini-fridge that could be stocked with puddings galore. it promptly was. and at one time or another, every refrigerator i've had since has played host to the standard jell-o fat free pudding snacks chocolate vanilla artificial flavor swirls.
the other day, i stocked up at the market and began putting the puddings in their designated fridge space as i always do. i cracked open the cardboard container as i always do and was shocked to find my jell-o pudding snacks in their vintage best. this was not the jell-o pudding lid of last week, but the jell-o pudding lid of 2001.
there is a small possibility that my recently purchased jell-o pudding snacks are indeed from 2001. however, this is largely discredited by the fact that i have partaken of said jell-o pudding snacks and have yet to die. presumably the ingestion of a six-year-old dairy product would be fatal, unless those artificial flavor swirls hold more power than we assume.
but i have to admit, once the shock had passed, i couldn't help but pause in front of the open refrigerator. the frigidaire breeze whipping my hair as i recalled that unusually hot mississippi spring, when i brazenly wore black bras under white shirts nearly every single day, did edgar allen poe impressions in holocaust class, and first had a fridge all my own. i was almost, dare i say it, moved.
then i remembered that this nostalgic moment had been brought to me by a jell-o pudding cup and shut the refrigerator door in shame.
*and yes, that's a bit of a baldfaced lie, but a writer's got to have a hook.