FDC Ode: Cheerios

Cheerios, I love you. I’ve loved you before. Then I didn’t for a while. Then I did again. Then I moved to fancier cereals, like Frosted Mini Wheats, Frosted Flakes, and Frosted Cheerios. Then I fell in love with you all over again.

I’ve never much been one for flash. I like you so much, Cheerios, because you’re so… plain. Every color in your arsenal can be boiled down to: shades of yellow. But who cares? Your target demographic seems to be babies and grandparents. So what? Your big selling point is how much you can lower cholesterol–possibly the least sexy thing in the world. Your point? “Hey babe, wanna come back to my place and… lower our cholesterol with a heart-healthy diet of fruits, vegetables, and whole grains?”


You say, “I’M PLAIN. DEAL WITH IT!” And I do, Cheerios! I do! I went years without eating any cereal. I was afraid the milk would spoil before I could use it all, so I never bought milk. And who buys cereal without buying milk?! I had one friend, Cheerios, that ate his cereal with orange juice; but we won’t talk about that. Orange juice is orange juice, and cereal is cereal. You’re a true great, Cheerios, you deserve milk.

One day not too long ago, I saw you sitting on the shelf in the fluorescent cereal aisle at Cub. I don’t even know why I was in that aisle–I don’t buy bread for the same reason I don’t buy milk–but there you were, Cheerios, all yellow and beckoning. The red, heart-shaped bowl on your front was an all-too-apt metaphor for how much I’d missed you. I felt you calling to me. I flirted with other cereals, telling myself I should grab the Lucky Charms, or the Reese’s Puffs. But I knew it’d just be a lie. You’re the only one I want. Sweet (in a purely metaphorical sense), sweet Cheerios.

Suddenly, before my brain could tell me no, I found myself grabbing you off the shelf, racing to the milk fridge, grabbing that half-gallon of 2%, and taking you both home with me. Yes I do have high cholesterol, Cheerios. How did you know?

I launched into a full-fledged Cheerios frenzy. I was eating your plain, high-fiber Os every morning. I came home drunk one night, and who was there waiting? It was you, Cheerios. Do you remember? Your box was half-full, and I polished off the whole thing that night. It was beautiful. It was magical. It was unpretentious. It was plain. Just like you, Cheerios. I love you. I’ll never leave you again.