THE OBSERVATION BOOTH
OP / ED & PHOTO CREDITS ANDREA DIALECT
Forgive Me Father For I Have Sinned… Again!
Eight plus eight equals sixteen, which is $2.00 worth of my guilty pleasure. My beloved Peanut Chews are 2 for a quarter. I don’t know how that works, but that’s the cost, and I’m much obliged.
Yesterday I turned a blind eye to phasing out my daily corner store runs just because the sugar intake, plus that God-given sugar that I already am with my sweet self (any opposing arguments keep them to yourself lol!), just ain’t good for me.
Oftentimes when Mommy at that store grabs that oddly shaped container with the side opening off that counter and pops the lid off, I’ve been known to grab one as she counted – meaning I had already chewed one of those Peanut Chews before I had paid for it? Now I’m stealing?
Oh Lord, forgive me again. Yesterday when I walked in while bruh was compiling those ducats, I did a quick slip-in. Mommy was already in position with one hand hovering over that container chock-filled with those chewy delights and the other hand positioned to the left side a few steps behind on that window shelf, which had her sideways reaching for my favorite edible companion – my Winterfresh gum.
I threw up the deuces, and Mommy, as repositioning herself, started the countdown. Her eyes met mine with an element of surprise as she threw up the deuces. “Two!” she shouted surprisingly after my commanding that quick halt. “Ooh,” she replied as she whipped her body back to the left side. “Two Winterfresh, oooh,” she said convincingly. “Ooh no,” I assured her, “not today.” “Ooh no,” she sighed. Her favorite customer (once again, any opposing arguments keep ’em to yourself) – me, thank you very much – has had a change of heart.
I smiled as I slid that quarter on that counter, and she slid me the two plus one. That one extra Peanut Chew was just a little somethin’ somethin’ to keep me coming. I told her that she was worse than those drug-slingin’ homies pacing them corners. “I told you I quit!” I called back as I exited the door. We laughed – we all laughed hard at that one – her, me, and bruh with the single dangling from his hand. And before I could step off that one step that elevated me to the door, I had cracked open the package and popped one in my mouth. I was chewing before I hit the pavement.
Now, why did I rush into that store to get just those two Peanut Chews? They were for impact. I had decided that I was going to take a photo of it in the palm of my hand so you’d get the gist of it. Added emphasis, that’s all. Sadly, by the time I hit the front door, one had disappeared from my mouth. One plus one equals two. Thank God for Mommy, ’cause if she hadn’t given me that other… And before I knew it, just like that, I was tearing open that package. I caught myself, and I needed to be reminded why I went into the store in the first place.
But if I had that Winterfresh gum to chew on as usual – now, now, I know what you’re probably saying. Yes, that chewing gum is the other guilty pleasure. I am allowing myself one pack, not two, every other day. So it too is being phased out. But it’s hard – pretty darn hard.
Those Peanut Chews are hard to say bye to because they are simply one of the only childhood snacks that still taste the same. Plus, the same packaging? Need I say more? Peanut Chews, I’m going to miss you. The Winterfresh gum I’m not as loyal to, but it does have a good lingering taste, which most other gums are amiss. I dabble in chewing a few others when I want another taste. Winterfresh is my main go-to, but it’s not mainly about its being my one and only – it’s the gum that I’ll be missing.
It took a long time to adjust to the notion that most gums made today do not pop. When I come across someone popping it, I make my way over to ’em faster than lightning speed. I’m usually disappointed because those whom I have asked usually tell me it’s those usual brands like Wrigley’s Winterfresh gum lol. I fell off once again, I guess.
Enough about that. In a nutshell, the gist of this story is that I have walked the straight and narrow for so long. Suga ain’t sweet when it’s flowing in your veins, and poppin’ gum into my mouth – whether it pops or not – ain’t ladylike nor acceptable when you’re trying to do right or look like it. I know that no matter what, I must stay on that plank. I must walk the straight and narrow because it’s good for me. It feels both good and bad. So I must say, discipline, with your cute ugly self, I love you. Because you do me good, and that’s what I want to stand for. What about you?
Funny thing about guilty pleasures – they’re so small they almost disappear between your fingers, yet they hold the same weight as the world’s big temptations.
In a life full of don’ts, full of can’ts, full of shouldn’ts, sometimes a two-for-a-quarter candy becomes a reminder that joy still exists – sticky, chewy, sweet, and defiant.
We call it a “little wrong,” but maybe it’s the only thing still right enough to make us laugh, taste, and feel alive for a moment.
So yes, even this small indulgence – a Peanut Chew, a stick of gum – feels like rebellion and comfort all in one breath. Because in this world that constantly says no, I still find a way to whisper yes… to me.
And if that ain’t discipline of a different kind – walking the straight and narrow with your pretty ugly self – I don’t know what is.
Visit Localtalkweekly.com and read this short in its entirety as getting even more up close and personal with the Entertainment section. While you’re at it, check out the archives in support of my subjects that, while Lending Their Image To Change, become my muse and clay as supporting my experimental projects as I mold them into Fine Artistry. (Like my brother Mr. Brown who mimics Mr. Brown displayed here.
Also join me and the collective for my Facebook live as I develop daily “PORTAL” sessions. I’ll see you between 5:30–6:45. Follow my msdialect Instagram, and let’s grow out loud together! Like, follow, and share.
DID YOU KNOW….
Peanut Chews
I bit into that Peanut Chew like it was a secret.
Like the world had said no to everything else –
but somehow, this one little square of wrong still belonged to me.
The chocolate cracked slow,
and for a second, it felt like time leaned in to watch.
That chew wasn’t candy –
it was permission.
Permission to feel something sweet
in a day that didn’t offer sweetness.
I let it stick to my teeth,
took my time peeling it off with my tongue,
like I was tasting rebellion in small doses.
Because sometimes,
doing something tiny and “not allowed”
is the only way to remember you’re still alive.
DO YOU KNOW ANY OF OUR COMMUNITY ACCESS CONTRIBUTORS?
- IF SO LET THEM KNOW THAT THEY’VE MADE THE CUT AND THEY ARE THE TALK OF LOCAL TALK THIS WEEK!
- PASS IT ON!
- LIKE, COMMENT, SHARE
