The next time that my mother asks me if I want candy for Halloween, I need to remember this moment and say, "No. I'd rather have a book or another cheesy pair of Halloween socks." This year I didn't do that. Instead, I said, "Sure. I'd love some Almond Joys, or maybe some Snickers or Reese's Peanut Butter Cups."When I was in the third grade, my Girl Scout troop went to Agrirama in Tifton, Georgia for a field trip. My mom, claiming that she didn't want me to go hungry, packed two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the world's biggest Ziploc bag of Cheetos, several cookies, and two Capri-Suns. I'm still surprised that my Strawberry Shortcake box held it all. As you can imagine, my mom still doesn't want me to go hungry. Thus, she sent all three types of candy, and I ate every last piece, granted not all in one sitting.
Now three weeks later I'm so bloated that I look like I'm at the end of my first trimester. Unfortunately, the best diet pills in the world won't make my pants fit any looser because it's not the fat that's doing it. It's the, um, rather congesting effects that the candy is having on my digestive system that is making my stomach look like I swallowed a watermelon whole. I'm starting to think that if I stuck a pin in my skin right next to my belly button, I'd go flying through the air like a deflating balloon. I'd even try it if I thought it would actually give me relief. All I know is that this Christmas when my mom asks me what kind of candy I want in my stocking, I'm telling her and Santa that the only sweet things that I want are an iTunes gift card and maybe some Extra sugar-free gum.
