Today I was running errands in town when I realized that I had yet to buy Halloween candy for any trick-or-treaters who may catch us at home tomorrow night. In previous years, I procured Halloween candy weeks ahead of time, under the guise of being prepared when it was all just an excuse to have a readily-accessible basket of candy in my house. This was one of several eating habits that, ironically, contributed to my current inability to consume anything with a number other than “0 g” next to the “Sugars” line in the nutritional facts.
But I’m not bitter. In fact, I’m sweet. Sweet as a Kit Kat. Because I truly believe that children should be allowed to semi-annually gorge themselves on candy before they grow up to be adults with dysfunctional endocrine systems. So I stopped at CVS and headed to the chaotic remnants of the seasonal candy-and-crap aisle.
You may be surprised (or doubtful) to learn that I can regard Kit Kats, Reese’s peanut butter cups, Skittles, and in fact any sugar-laden treat with as much interest as a panda would ponder a pizza. Just being near the Halloween candy in CVS made my pancreas churn.
I picked Kit Kats because they were my favorite Halloween candy, back before the candy bit me back. But wait, did I miss something? What happened to the foil wrapper that was so much fun to unfold? And is it my imagination, or have the snack-sized Kit Kats shrunk into fun-sized Kit Kats?
That’s small! I’m sure the fine folks at Hershey’s would attribute the shrinkage to concerns about children’s sugar consumption and portion sizes, but of course this change is purely economical. There’s a decrease in the net amount of candy per bag, plus now I’ll have to distribute 2, maybe even 3 of these puny Kit Kats to each trick-or-treater to avoid looking like a sugar miser. And they’ll have to eat 3 of these Kit Kats to be sufficiently sophonsified. Maybe I should throw some glucose test strips into their bags while I’m at it.
