For Valentine’s Day, I gave my husband a heart-shaped box (oh, shades of Nirvana!) that was filled with miniature Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. He ate about three of them, and then completely ignored the rest. I watched that pile of chocolate-peanutbuttery goodness for a week, two weeks, a year (in candy-watcher’s time) before I pounced on them and unwrapped and devoured every single blob of caloric heaven. And then I wah-wahhh’d because I’m so fat.
Two nights later, my husband asks if I have seen his candy. No, I honestly haven’t seen it…recently, that is. Then, I break down and confess. I would make a really crappy spy: he didn’t subject me to torture or anything other than rolling his eyes at me before I spilled the beans and incriminated myself.
I come from a long line of candy lovers. My Nana and PopPop owned a candy store and the highlight of our visits (at least for me!) was a trip behind the counter where we would be given little white paper bags to fill with as much candy as we could possibly smoosh into every crevice. Ahhh…yes. And the care packages once we were back home! SOLID chocolate bunnies; none of this hollow stuff that beckons and betrays the innocent. I grew up on Russell Stover chocolates and jelly beans. I did discriminate, however. For Evidence #1, I present to you the box of assorted chocolates, complete with the ones missing a bite because they had a yucky strawberry filling or some kind of ick that I presumed that grown-ups liked because I sure as heck did not.
Now, back to my poor deprived husband. I felt badly about eating his present, so I replaced it with a small box of very high-classed chocolates. It has been eleven days and he has only consumed TWO of the four pieces. Does he do this to tease me, to prove that he has superior self-control? Or is he easily satisfied with one piece per week. WHAT IS HIS PROBLEM?? Don’t worry: I am not going to attack his replacement gift. That would just perpetuate a long line of replacement chocolates, ad nauseum. For sure.
I will just look longingly at the box each time I pass by, but I won’t succumb.
Just (Don’t) Do It!