By Kate Stoltzfus
I have a confession to make. I am somewhat of a candy-holic. I will gladly skip healthier meals in favor of one more Almond Joy or a handful of peanut M&M’s. Naturally, Halloween remains one of my favorite holidays. Who can complain about multitudes of free candy bars on a day when no one can judge you for eating 10 (or maybe 20) of them?
Just one small (too-small) issue: Why do all the candy companies insist on producing candy bars 1/10th of their normal size and then christening them fun-sized? There is nothing “fun” about less chocolate. Whoever decided to associate these miniature pieces with a word that is supposed to conjure happiness and joy was wrong. All the “fun-sized” candy bars do is remind me how sad I am that a substantial amount of chocolate is being withheld.
Why not use the name “bite-sized”? Or “mini-sized”? Or “chocolate-that-has-yet-to-satisfy-you-sized”? The possibilities are limitless. Fun does not need to be one of them.
Imagine you are a small child. Whenever you have been previously bestowed the blessing of a treat from the grocery store, you get a Hershey bar that you have to hold with two hands. That should be a childhood standard: two hands, not one.
So when you are offered a piece of candy and begin to think of the Almond Joys with four whole almonds, the Reese’s with two (not one) peanut butter cups, how can you not be disappointed when what’s put into your cupped hands is candy shrunk so significantly it’s a wonder you can even read the wrapper?
We all greet this reality sooner or later. But it’s fun-sized, the candy makers argue! You are supposed to smile. You will not get so fat! You won’t create as many cavities! Who says six M&M’s in a tiny bag is not enough?! Of course you can taste a fair portion of the rainbow in only two colors of Skittles!
News for you, makers of Fun: you can’t. To properly quench your candy thirst, you need more than just one bite. You can’t tell me you don’t get the urge, after you’ve finished your morsel in less than 20 seconds, to drive to the pharmacy for a Baby Ruth that lasts longer than a bite and a half.
I may not be five anymore but I still want a candy bar that gives me a sense of security, one to remind me that even when things are going badly, I’m not empty-handed. Can you blame me if I want life to be a little sweeter?
We all deserve a king-sized. Now that’s fun.
Read more of Kate’s blogs at http://www.goshencommons.org/category/blogs/localized.