This year, I decided to make a conscious decision about Lent. I should give something up.
In less than two days, I'll be able to eat Cheetos.
My Lent sacrifice was a decision made three days after Ash Wednesday. It was already Friday at the time, and I realized that I had not bought a bag of Cheetos since Tuesday that week. I question my ability to stay true to this sacrifice, but here I am, some 38 days later, and with sufficient reflections.
Cheetos are a vital part of my life. They are my go to snack. My comfort food. They are what you should sacrifice to me as tribute. I would lie for you if you would give me a bag of Cheetos. I'd do your homework. I'd clean your house, bathe your dog, chaperon your curmudgeonly grandmother. Anything. I've reached beyond the point where Cheetos became associated with me, the same way four leafed clover because associated with Saint Patrick and the rose to the virgin Mary.
Keeping shop at Moments Salon made Cheetos ridiculously accessible. In fact, almost every purchase of Cheetos was a mindless and automatic. A habit bordering on bad. I could make my leisurely 5 pm walk breaks pass through Shopwise at Festival Mall and buy two snack bags of Cheetos. OR I could make a quick hop to the 7-11 at the other end of our building and splurge 65 Php (roughly a dollar fifty or so) for a King size snack bag. Life was great.
I fought with myself about this Lenten fast: "But there's a bag of Cheetos in the kitchen." My Superego must have said this. Or a worried Ego.
"Then let's be realistic," I said to myself. "I won't eat a bag of Cheetos that I bought with money from my own pocket. I know Rod will want to share it. I will not initiate in the partaking of that bag. Once it's open, that's it." A reasonable Id. (If anyone knows me, it'll make sense that it's the Id making sense of all of this; I blow my ow mind this way sometimes)
It seemed rational, honest, and realistic.
The first thing I noticed is that I have the propensity to not spend. Accessibility is the number one reason for Cheetos booty calls. The virtue of thriftiness also spread itself elsewhere. There are three (count them: one, two, THREE) second hand book stores near Moments Salon. It so happened that I hardly spent on books. I'd only buy a book if it was ridiculously cheap, like an Arthur Blisset epic for 20 Php.
Two or three weeks into the fast, not having any Cheetos didn't bother me as much. At this point, my mind would deliciously imagine myself at Easter, munching at every Cheetos piece I'd pop in my mouth. However, every time this would happen, my body would actually say something to my mind:
"Ma'am, Cheetos are splendid things and we sort of miss them. However...it's kinda...icky. And the things that the digestive system churns out into the bloodstream are less than desirable. In fact, 'less than desirable' is an understatement."
My body, as it turns out, talks to me like a staff of household help, led by a polite but brutally honest butler. I should feel like a being divided by its desires and concerns, but being merely human, I'll go with what my body says.
Actually, this was a fear I had on the onset. I feared that I might end up not eating another morsel of Cheetos. I was afraid of being detached from this glorious wonder food. At the same time, I don't find myself gorging on Cheetos on Easter Sunday, or the Monday after. I'm not pining for it anymore.
The point of Lent is to sacrifice. Growing up evangelical with Catholic influences somehow painted a lopsided picture of Lent. There is so much mention of "the sacrifice has been made...you don't need to sacrifice." My problem with this is the notion that there is no need acknowledge our human nature to give in to what we think is good for us. In my mind, there is a kind of superiority complex behind the notion "we don't need to sacrifice."
It's true that we don't need to. However, making a conscious sacrifice does anyone some good. It's like the freedom of accidentally forgetting your phone at home when you're at work. It's kinda liberating. I think this is what Lent is all about as well: you make yourself aware of your humanity and you end up being aware of more things that what your body wants.
Next year, maybe I'll sacrifice tea. There will be negotiations for sure. But I wonder what I'll learn at the end of it. I think that's what worth the experience.
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