I wander in a cold dark shuffle through my house. I am too afraid to turn on any of the lights. The smallest glimmer of light hurts my eyes so much, which causes the throbbing in my head to go back to beating a nasty beat inside my skull. I shouldn’t have accepted the challenge. I should never accept dares from my best friend Erica, but I always do.
This year, she challenged me to dress up for Halloween and hit the swankiest neighborhood in town. Bless my mother for giving me genes that make me barely top five feet at twenty years old. In the right costume, no one even questions if I am too old to go trick-or-treating. But that was only the start of her plans for me this year.
As I stepped down from the expansive porch of the final house in the neighborhood, Erica rushed forward to take my hand. “Good job, sweetie. You were so polite to all these nice people who gave you treats.” Her words dripped more sugar than my king size pillowcase though the later overflowed with enough full-size candy bars to make my thin arms struggle to keep it aloft.
“Just like you taught me, mommy,” I replied in my best little girl voice as I rolled my eyes at her.
“You got so much candy, we should talk about when you get to eat it.”
“Just one candy bar a day, mom?”
“I was thinking something far more challenging.” She grinned at me, squeezing my hand tighter as she began to giggle.
I groaned. “But I just completed your challenge.”
“You completed part one of my challenge…”
“How many parts are there?”
“Oh, I haven’t decided yet.”
“And what is part two?”
“You need to finish this bag of candy this week, except for,” she reached into my bag to extract a king size Reese’s and its king size cousin, Twix. “I will help you with these two.”
I felt my eyes widen until they must look like sunny side up eggs with brown yolks. “You want me to eat all of this…” I lost the ability to speak as I hefted the heavy bag up to eye level and peered inside at shiny wrappers promising sweet sugary delight and chocolate contentment.
“You can do it.” She reassured me, looking over her shoulder before letting go of my hand and clapping me on the back. “I know you can.”
“This has to be at least fifteen pounds of chocolate.”
She peeked into the bag, “Indeed. And who knows how much all the nuts and candy and nougat weigh.”
I groaned. I am certain my face had already begun to turn a vivid green despite the heavy coating of costume paint making my face a lustrous white. I clutched the overloaded bag to my chest, feeling my heart rate ramping up in anticipation of the ill-advised week ahead.
Sunday went well. As the first day of my quest to down way more sugar than any sane person should eat in the course of a year, it still held a sense of excitement. Erica’s challenge and assurance that I could succeed bolstered my will to get started.
And start I did by sorting the candy to see how much I had of each variety. Then I started making piles for each day of the week. As I watched each pile grow larger, I took a deep breath and centered myself. Only a miracle would find me alive and not climbing up the walls of a stranger’s house on the other side of the city by the end of the week. I could even picture them dialing 9-1-1 in terror.
I took another deep breath and went to work. I picked up a Zero bar, bracing myself since I had never had one before and took a big bite. The mix of flavors sounded good on the package but my tongue did not enjoy them. I shrugged and wolfed down a Reese’s cup to wash away the flavor. The lingering flavor of peanut butter and chocolate soothed away my trepidation for an hour. Then I came back for my next installment.
By Wednesday, I was hurting. The world spun around me. My mouth felt like it was coated in chocolate-flavored taffy. My stomach had begun expressing its displeasure with grumbles and displeased gurgles every time I even looked at the day’s pile of candy. I soldiered on.
Thursday evening, my stomach sent its distress to my intestines. You know that didn’t go well.
Friday, I had to call off work, due to extreme intestinal distress. They were wise not to ask more questions or impugn the truth of my words. Otherwise, they might have heard things they couldn’t unhear.
Trying to combat the war in my belly, I started eating a healthy protein with each candy bar and then taking a walk. Every walk was punctuated with discomfort and interrupted by a mad dash to the bathroom, but I persevered. And I was down to my last six candy bars.
Only six more candy bars.
I glanced at the clock. I also had only six hours. My feet hurt. I had mastered ignoring my stomach though I knew I would be sorely punished for ignoring its complaints. I slowly chewed on a KitKat as I staggered around my living room, touching walls and furniture as much as possible for reassurance that I wasn’t falling. Would I make it? Would I win this challenge? Would this even be the end of the challenge?
That’s when I turned the light off, so here I am stumbling around in the dark.
Erica assured me she would arrive at 11:59 on Saturday night to see how I fared. She lied. The doorbell rings at 11:30 while I am staring despondently at one regular size Twix and one Take Five. I had saved the best for last in the hopes that I could power through, but apparently my plan isn’t working.
I grab the Take Five and take a hefty bite as I open the door and greet Erica, “See what you have done to me?”
She grins and steps closer, peering at my face so closely I am mildly worried she is about to plant a kiss on my cheek. “Oh, girl, you are breaking out.”
“More than you know,” I grumble as a loud roar rumbles through my intestines.
She peeks past me at the coffee table, where one last pack of Reese’s rests atop the crumpled pillowcase. “Really, just one left? What are you complaining about?”
“One and a half,” I mumble around another mouthful or five fantastic flavors.
“I guess I am going to lose this challenge,” she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.
I stuff the last bite of candy in my mouth. The action makes my knees weak and my head spin, so I lurch toward the living room with Erica at my heels.
“Gosh, Erica, I think I gained fifty pounds. You win the challenge, I can’t eat one more candy bar.” I collapse onto the couch and whimper as my hand bounces off the wall and the wrapper drops from my now limp hand to flutter to the floor.
My other arm falls over my eyes. I close them and breath deeply, contemplating how long I will need to fast before I dare to put any kind of food on the path to my stomach, particularly candy. I sit there like that in silence, waiting for Erica to crow her win over me. She keeps her silence, too, waiting for it to be official.
After what seems like longer than the handful of minutes left until midnight, I slowly lift my arm from my eyes. It takes me another minute to convince my eyes to flutter open. They scan the room, resting on Erica’s smug face.
“How exactly did I win?” I gesture toward the coffee table.
“Because there is nothing left in the bag,” Erica grins at me.
“Don’t mock me,” I sit up, “It’s right…”
“Yes, the pillowcase is right there.” She winks at me and pats her pocket.
Her pocket crinkles. Then she smiles wide at me, showing teeth stained with chocolate. I look down at the table, which now holds only a crumpled pillowcase and a few magazines. I have never been so grateful to see the last candy bar disappear in all my life.
~~So how many of you are feeling that candy collapse this week?~~
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