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I love Doritos.

I have loved them as long as I can remember. I love the telltale orange mess they leave on your fingers and face; I love finding the chip that has so much "nacho cheese" on it that it is almost red; I love the way they taste with a cold diet soda; I'll even be so gauche as to say that I love the unmistakable stench of Doritos breath.

This all would be fine, if I had any concept of what constitutes a normal serving -- if I knew to exercise a little thing called portion control. With Doritos, one quickly begets 10. And 10 really means 20. So soon I've got an evening on the couch, with a worn-out palate and a bloated countenance, not to mention waistline. It's not pretty.

So, for a while, I swore off my beloved snack. I painfully avoided the siren call of the chip aisle. I felt a bit like Humbert Humbert; his wrenching, lascivious moan became my own: Do-ree-tos. Light of my life ... My sin, my soul.

And then came olestra. Last spring, when Frito-Lay introduced its WOW line of snacks, made with this new kind of "fat," my taste buds tingled. From what I'd heard, olestra (marketed under the brand name Olean) offered the best of both worlds. Because it is, in fact, a fat, the taste and mouth-feel was virtually the same. But here's the kicker: The fat in olestra is indigestible, thus not absorbable. The fatty molecules are simply too big to be metabolized by enzymes and bacteria in the gut. Hallelujah! I could have my cake and eat it too!

Needless to say, I jumped on the Olean train with glee, snapping up bags and bags of WOW Doritos. All was well. It was a veritable summer of love. Pretty much every day after work, as I watched the evening news, I camped out on the couch with my (newly) guilt-free treat.

One day, after work and post-Doritos, I went for a run. I was living in Boston at the time, so I took to the banks of the Charles River. As I trotted along, I started to feel some cramping in my abdomen. Figuring it would go away, I kept jogging. But with every step, a new wave of pain welled in my belly. It got progressively worse and worse, even as I slowed to a mere crawl. I barely made it to a bathroom in time. I'd never felt such urgency or such sharp discomfort. WOW, indeed.

I was pretty positive that it was the Doritos. I sheepishly told friends and family about my river runs. First, they laughed. Then, they were disgusted. Their chiding persuaded me to lay off the WOWs.

And I did.

But nine or 10 months later, just when the memory of the pain withered away, I started to buy the WOWs again.

Next page | "I think I am going to pass out"