It's a Wonder-less Life

Growing up, I hated wheat bread. It was white bread all the way for me. I actually think Wonder bread was one of my favorite foods.

I loved white bread so much I’d eat it as a snack—first removing the crust (and eating it) and then rolling up and mashing the remaining bread into a thick, white bread ball, taking bites until it was gone. When we’d have spaghetti or chop suey, my mom would yell at me for making white bread and pasta sandwiches (28-year-old me cringes at the thought of this carb- and calorie-overload, but then I remember how delicious it was and applaud 8-year-old me’s genius idea).

As the rest of the family, one by one, crossed to the darker bread side (wheat, rye, etc.), my dad and I held fast to our love for white bread. Wheat bread tasted like the cardboard box my Lucky Charms came in. Never would I give up the Wonder in life.

And then one day I was forced to abandon my love for white-enriched flour thanks to my high cholesterol. Stupid nutritionist.

It was hard work, but over time I got used to the taste of wheat bread, experimenting with brands that contained the words “honey” or “oat” on the bag—anything to soften the blow. Five years later, I’ve gotten in the habit of buying wheat bread with flaxseed and whole grain and all that jazz instead. Since I’ve been on a restricted diet and forced to make calories count, I try to ingest as much fiber-rich foods as possible.

So two weeks ago when I discovered that I accidentally grabbed a loaf of white bread instead of my usual whole-wheat loaf, I near panicked… then I smiled, reliving my bologna and ketchup on white bread days. Everything would be OK.

After spreading some crunchy peanut butter across a slice of the white stuff and taking the biggest bite ever, I realized I now hated white bread. The 8-year-old, white-bread-ball rolling kid would be so mad at me right now.

It was missing a certain taste I’ve gotten used to having in slices of wheat bread (maybe it’s called fiber), and after a few days the slices lost their freshness and the edges would break off in my hand (this was not actual Wonder brand). I thought that loaf would never be gone. And I never thought I’d be so relieved to be eating wheat bread again (I made sure to look at what kind of bread I grabbed at the grocery store this weekend).

While my dad still has to have his white bread, I’ve lost that loving feeling. Apparently in this case, absence does not make the heart grow fonder. Or maybe it’s because I’m officially a grown-up and understand the ramifications of a chop suey- Wonder bread sandwich. Either way, I’ve crossed to the dark side.