Candy Kirby
It all started with a particularly dumb Laffy Taffy joke: “Q: What kind of key doesn’t open a lock?” A: A monkey.” I became so enraged by its stupidity–MONKEYS ARE SMART! WHY DO YOU PRESUME THEY CAN’T OPEN A SIMPLE LOCK?!–that I shoved the offending wrapper in my mouth. And here’s the thing: I didn’t hate it.
So I tore open another candy with a frustratingly illogical joke. Then another. Before you know it, I had eaten nothing but Laffy Taffy wrappers for seven days.
That’s right. No coffee. No wine. No side of ketchup to add any semblance of flavor.
Just piles and piles of Laffy Taffy wrappers.
Here is my experience with the all-Laffy Taffy wrapper diet.
DAY 1
Wrapper count: 21
Mood: Committed AF.
I catch one of the other moms at the park giving me the side-eye as I casually munch on a wrapper in the cafeteria. Munch. Munch. Munch. Oh yeah, I’m doing this, bitch.
DAY 2
Wrapper count: 25
Mood: Life is great. Laffy Taffy wrappers are great.
In theory, inhaling nothing but Laffy Taffy wrappers for a week sounds like it would, like, seriously mess up your insides, but turns out, the paper is a great source of fiber. I’m already down two pounds!
Day 3
Wrapper count: 19
Mood: THIS IS MY BREAKTHROUGH DAY!
I can finally button my pre-baby jeans without our German Shepherd sitting on top of my stomach, and I actually crave the sensation of tasteless, soggy paper on my tongue. My skin is no longer oily, instead taking on the dull waxiness of the Laffy Taffy wrappers. And I love it.
Days 4-7
Wrapper count: Unknown.
Mood: A bit… hazy.
I drift in and out of consciousness. From what my Mommy & Me buddies tell me, I was eventually found in the Romp ‘N’ Roll room, rocking back and forth in hysterical laughter. Yes, I had become so lightheaded from the lack of real nourishment, the unthinkable had happened: I actually laughed at the Laffy Taffy wrapper jokes. Until I passed out.
The Takeway
Although I ended up in the hospital for dehydration and my husband is making me see a therapist for so-called “coping issues,” my wrapper cleanse was a success–not only because I’m down to my pre-baby weight, but also because it felt like a giant “eff you” to companies that profit from the perception that consuming certain foods are “good” and eating only candy wrappers is “bad.” If my experience helps shed a spotlight on that fallacy, it was all worth it. Even the video of me hungrily gnawing on a Sophie the Giraffe teether that one of my jerk Mommy & Me “friends” posted on YouTube. All. worth. it.
