PASSIONATE RATIONS

There does not appear to be conclusive evidence that vitamins actually do much for you if you eat a well-balanced diet, but who really eats a well-balanced diet all the time?

The prevailing theory seems to be that vitamins probably don’t do any harm (if you’re relatively cognizant and careful of dosages), and may fill in dietary gaps, so why not take them?

Of course, vitamins are also a multi-billion dollar business, so it pays to choose your sources wisely.

Since my doctor’s recommended them before, since the AMA does too, and since the relative health of my diet varies radically by circumstance, I figure it’s probably a good idea to supplement things.

So, now the question is: which vitamin to take?

I’ve tried GNC and a variety of your usual drug-store options (e.g. Centrum) and I have to say they have been singularly unsatisfying for a girl brought up on Flintstone’s chewables. Some are the size of horse pills (witness GNC’s Women Ultra Mega). Some I end up tasting for the rest of the day (witness, again, GNC’s Ultra Mega). Most (for adults) are of the non-chewable variety and it is this last point that I wish to gripe about today.

Why did I take my vitamin when I was a kid? Because they came in fun shapes (Pebbles, Bam Bam, Fred and Wilma, to name a few). AND they tasted good. Like candy.

Mmmmmm. Candy.

Do marketers really think growing up has radically altered what I’d like to see in a vitamin? Apparently so, because I’ve only found one adult chewable vitamin. Thank you, Centrum. But even that is very limited in its flavor options and only comes in a boring round shape. And you have to take out a loan to buy them.

So it was that I found myself standing in front of the vitamin shelves at my local grocery last Sunday. I eschewed the boring adult section for the kid’s and was quickly overwhelmed by the options (Yes, Virginia, it is possible to have too many choices).

There were Flintstones and dinosaurs and critters and Disney! There were oranges, and purples and reds and yellows. In gummy form even! Some had additional iron. Some had additional calcium. In other words, I was forced to close my eyes, turn in a circle, and grab randomly in order to choose.

I ended up with Flintstone’s Bone Builders (added calcium). $5.99. So, now I got a daily date with my old friend Wilma and her pals. Woo hoo!

The lingering question of this story: why haven’t the marketers caught on?

I imagine that adult-formulation vitamins in the shapes of little Volkswagon bugs might have some appeal. Or how about little cell-phone shapes? Different house styles? Letters? The possibilities are endless.

Then I won’t have to try and avoid the eyes of my neighbors and colleagues (who know I don’t have children and whom I always run into at the grocery) as I pick the Dinosaur-shaped vitamin gummies off the shelf and contemplate their relative merits.

Mmmm. Candy!