Ode to a Chip

Oh how I love you, Lay’s Brand Potato Chips.  You have remained a constant in my life from my earliest memories.  You were in my sack lunch when I rode the bus to first grade, the perfect accompaniment to my homemade strawberry jam sandwich on Wonder bread.  Your presence made many a plain lunch palatable with your salty goodness.  And no, I can’t eat just one – that’s just crazy talk.

Your Classic flavor in the cheerful yellow bag always lifts my spirits.  Your Family Size allowed me to share you with my boys as they were growing up without feeling like there wasn’t going to be enough for me to get my fair share.  Any get-together, large or small, is the perfect time to bring along your Party Size.  How I rejoice when my local grocery store advertises that I can buy just one bag and get a second free, or when two bags can be mine for just $5.00!

Every chip is a delight, but the foldover?  Extra flavor seems to somehow lurk within those inner places.  Sometimes a bag is nearly bursting with these gems.  Some might think the occasional brown chip, or the one with a slightly green edge is unsavory, but these are the perfect bites to toss to the family dog without feeling like you are wasting a precious chip.

When you introduced Lightly Salted?  Bravo, Lay’s, bravo.  It seemed unlikely that the Classic flavor could be improved, but this was it.  Your blue bag comforts me in ways that are hard to describe.  It’s almost possible to convince myself that this is a healthy snack. 

It’s true that I have taken a brief hiatus from you.  When I feared our relationship had become too close, bordering on an unhealthy attachment, I gave you up for forty days. What a reunion that was when we were together again!  While I normally don’t limit my consumption, when I went on a 21 day spending fast last January, I made one your one little blue bag last all month by eating only ten chips per day.  Such will power!

Over the years I have dramatically changed my eating habits, but you remain a constant. I pray a blessing on the farmers who grew you from a tiny seed potato and harvested you at your peak, on those who washed, peeled, sliced and dropped you into vats of oil, those who packaged you, and those who drove you to my local store.  May we always be together!

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