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Growing up in a nonreligious household, I was raised to believe that the Holy Trinity was Spinach, Milk, and Orange Juice. My parents were convinced that without these three substances, I would die. Spinach would make me strong like Popeye; without milk my teeth and bones would crumble into dust; without orange juice I would get scurvy.
The elixir had to be orange juice, not the oranges themselves, or broccoli, or other foods containing Vitamin C.
Unfortunately, I hated orange juice: the pulp caught in my throat and it made my mouth taste funny if I had just brushed my teeth. My mother chased me around the house every morning with a glass. Sometimes she wouldn't rest until I pinched my nose and choked it down.
Why didn't those lazy scientists who linked drinking too much juice to spikes in your blood sugar only release their studies AFTER I was grown up?