When you watch as much television as I do, you need a snack. And when you’re a compulsive snack binger, you need a relatively healthy snack to counter the disgusting amount you’re about to consume. After painstakingly criss-crossing the ends of the Earth (the one block that separates Ralphs and Trader Joe’s), I found my match: Trader Joe’s Organic Animal Crackers.
Our relationship began like most others: the first date.
I walked into the alternatively-hip Trader Joe’s on a mission to find a snacking miracle. After getting sucked into the wine vortex in the back (Why does that always happen?), I made it to the aisle of snack food paradise. It’s really unnerving how much unique junk food that store sells. And a lot of it is junk–either calorically-intoxicating, dripping in saturated fat or a sugary trip in a coma. This is L.A. and we do not stand for such health injustices!
At the very end of the row, I came to the animal crackers. I won’t say it was love at first sight–but there was undeniable chemistry. It was love when I read the nutrition label. I saw right into its soul and realized we were meant for each other:
Serving size: 17 crackers (That’s a lot!) / Calories: 120 / Cals from fat: 15 / Total fat: 2g (YES) / Sugars: 6g (Am I being punk’d?!)
There’s even 2g of protein and trace amounts of iron, so it’s like healthy too.
We began seeing each other regularly: Sunday nights for “Looking,” Tuesday nights for “New Girl” and Thursdays for “Millionaire Matchmaker.” Call it the honeymoon stage, if you will. Things were great. I was really happy and I feel like I was putting good energy out into the Universe, which is really important.
But then out of nowhere they became so controlling and so demanding. I was finishing entire containers outside of my television schedule. They went crazy! It’s hard to find a way out when you’re in the depths of a manipulative and sometimes mentally-abusive relationship–or so I’m told. They were there for me when I was sad or happy. But then they would betray me when I was trying to refrain from frivolous snacking. I try so hard to resist but I keep coming back for more. Gimme, gimme more!–And if I keep eating them at this rate, I’m going to look like Britney in her “Gimme More” VMA performance.
It’s even worse now that others are noticing the trap I’m in. Two days ago, when I went to Trader Joe’s to buy my third container in five days, the cashier looked at me and said, “These again?”
“How does he know?! Is it that obvious that I’m spiraling downward and I’m so far removed from reality to recognize it?”
I managed a smile and a meager, “Yup,” as I slowly sucked air into my mouth in awkward tension. I grabbed my lover and ran out of there as fast as I could.
Right now, we’re in a really happy place again. My roommate was super great and assumed the role of a therapist and helped us sort out what each of us really wanted. We actually see eye-to-eye on a lot of things so the future seems really bright. I love them.