It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was feeling rebellious and immature and angry at my restricted diet, so I binged on Crunchy Cheetos. They’re gluten-free, right? Sort of. The label warns that they’re prepared in a facility that also makes foods containing gluten so there are not guarantees against contamination. Plus the list of preservatives is longer than the rest of the ingredients. Plus they just make me feel bloated and unhappy. So Cheetos have become my “hairshirt” or badge of shame and reminder that “it” is just not worth it. It = momentary tasty pleasure or nose-thumbing at nutritional discipline or [insert target of rebellion here].