Candy Meal

The grocery clerk dragged one bag after another across the barcode reader.  With each beep, the display jumped the total upwards.  Three dollars more, five dollars, a buck ninety-nine.  Despite all of my promises, I knew I’d overdone it again.  Like last Halloween, the one before, and the one before that, I’d bought way too much candy.  My grocery bags overflowed.

How About Regular Food?

Halfway to the car, I remembered I hadn’t bought even one item from my grocery list: no strawberries, no yogurt, no bananas, no broccoli.  Nothing.  I’d blown past the grocery budget for the week, and what did I have to show for it besides Milky Ways, Snickers, Butterfingers, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, which by the way, go great with a glass of milk?

It’s that time of year again when the amount of money I spend on candy blows past the dollars I spend on all other foods combined.  Who needs Greek yogurt when you can live off Heath bars?  Who needs bananas when you can dine on candy corn?  Who needs vegetables when- well, who needs vegetables?

Could a man live on candy alone?  I was about to find out.

A Well-rounded Candy Diet

What did a well-rounded diet of chocolate, sugar, and nougat look like?  Breakfast of scrambled Snickers and a side of Tootsie Rolls?  A Hershey’s sandwich for lunch?  How about a three course meal for dinner?  Twix appetizers, followed by a Kit Kat entrée, finished off with an Almond Joy dessert.  That’s a meal to rival a Wagyu ribeye.

Who’d need snacks?  Not me.  My entire diet would be a snack.  I might occasionally sneak a stalk of celery or a cherry tomato, but it would be out of desire, not necessity.  Vitamins?  Minerals?  Who needs ‘em?  Not when you’re shooting for hypoglycemia.

Candy Meal Doesn’t Cut It

As much as I love candy, I knew I wouldn’t be able to survive on just those empty calories.  I turned around and walked back into the store.  After all, chocolate and strawberries do make a great combination.

Can you think of any others?