A Butterfinger bender

Do you ever have days where you just crave something so badly that you feel like if you don't get that "thing" your front teeth will fall out or your right arm might shrivel up or maybe you'll just have a mental breakdown and turn into a rabid beast or be like one of the mutts from "The Hunger Games"? Man, I hate days like that!

Last week we bought about $50 worth of Halloween candy, which will probably last all of an hour when we go to Mom's to pass it out to trick-or-treaters. All of the candy sat in our house for three days and I wasn't tempted and didn't even want a bite of any of it. I was actually kind of repulsed by the number of calories the candy contained. 

Then day four hit. 

And I don't know what happened. 

All I can say is that the bag of snack size Butterfingers was calling my name. It was a playful taunt at first and I just ignored it. "Kiiiiiiiiiiiirsteeeeeeeeeen!" it was saying in a hushed tone, like it had a secret to tell me, and before long it was barking out my name like a drill instructor and ordering me around. "Get in here, cadet, and open this bag and eat a candy bar! That's an order!"

Okay, one won't hurt, right?

Except I didn't stop at one. 

Tsk, tsk. 

Oh, I tried, though. I went back to the living room, fed the baby, rocked the baby, played with the baby, bathed the baby, drank a glass of water, drank another glass of water, and the whole time I could hear that bag screaming at me, like a toddler who just wants to be held. Pick me up and I'll be quiet. I promise. The next thing I knew, I had gone on a Butterfinger bender and eaten about half the bag. 

Oh.

My.

Word!

How  does that happen? I was consciously telling myself to stop, but my taste buds and my stomach and that happy feeling that chocolate gives you were all overriding my sense of self control. I was unwrapping them at warp speed and shoveling them in as fast as I could, like it was an Olympic event, and all the while telling myself that it was okay. I don't normally eat candy, so this entire episode was extremely out of character for me. I felt completely out of control and I didn't even care. 

After I'd eaten about one fourth of the bag, my craving had yet to be sated. Seriously, what is wrong with me? So, I decided to just keep eating. Why, you ask? Well, I had a theory. I was going to eat them until I felt sick; the theory being that if I made myself sick on them, I wouldn't want them anymore. I didn't say it was a good theory. My brain was sick that day. Forgive me. After half of the bag was gone, I still wanted to keep eating and I still didn't feel sated. Again, seriously, what is wrong with me? I wasn't hungry, I wasn't even hungry when I ate the first one. However, I was quite disgusted with how much I had eaten, so I made myself stop, even though I wanted to devour the rest of the bag. Why I didn't stop after the first one, or even before the first one, is beyond me. Call me weak. I went to bed thinking about Butterfingers. I told you something is wrong with me. It was an epic fail kind of day. 

The good news is that even though I didn't make myself sick on them, I haven't been craving them anymore! Plus, D finished off the bag yesterday.