My mom’s family calls Smarties “Cry-Babies” – no relation to the John Waters movie.
My relationship to Smarties is not healthy. No, Smarties lure me in with their sugary sugar then leave me lying naked on the floor, with a pounding headache and a feeling of nausea.
Not really about the naked part. But Smarties are intense.
About once a year, I remember my love of Smarties, thoughtlessly throwing a bag into my cart while strolling the aisles at the supermarket. Then I take it home and I eat one. And another. And another.
I’ve already told you what happens next.
My unhealthy Smarties addiction reminds me of my childhood love, nay, obsession, with Dolly Parton.
I grew up knowing not a single soul who listened to country music, not even a single family member, so I’m not quite sure how it started. But as a baby, nothing could get me to fall asleep but watching Dolly’s variety show. Apparently I was the only one with such love, because it was soon cancelled.
My love of Dolly was then channeled through her movie, The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.
The songs, her love-conquers-all-even-being-a-whorehouse-madam-falling-for-the-town-sheriff storyline with Burt Reynolds, the outfits – I absorbed it all, enthralled.
There’s a 37% chance that movie is responsible for my terrible fashion sense.
When in high school my family took a summer vacation in rural Tennessee, there was no question we’d be driving to Pigeon Forge to visit Dollywood.
Days and days of non-Dolly Parton focused time were spend lazing around our cabin, learning to play shuffle board, and spending days meditating on the surroundings’ resemblance to Kellerman’s resort from Dirty Dancing, only without anybody else under 40.
Looking back, it was a strange choice of vacation, though perhaps not as strange as the fact that I was allowed to obsessively watch The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas in elementary school.
I’ve lost track of my point.
Oh yes, smarties y’all.
(Some days I read the Bloggess and think I can get away with using y’all, but then I realize I will never be that cool, or that southern.)
(As proven by the fact that I believe I incorrectly used y’all above.)
(Maybe I should have spent more time in Tennessee.)
Clearly should have gotten more sleep last night y’all,
Smarties: An Unhealthy Addiction, Like my Childhood Adoration of Dolly Parton