Easter isn’t here yet, and I’ve already eaten my weight in jelly beans. My father knows I like the colorful bits of sweet heaven, so he bought me a big bag from Stew Leonard’s. As I toiled at my desk, writing one story after another for my various clients, I ripped through that bag until the seven black ones remained. I tried to tie up the bag and hide it in my file cabinet, but I knew it was there. It would call my name. Francescaaaaa… Francescaaaaa… The next thing I would know I would have a film across my keyboard, from fingers sticky with sugar. And I’d have no recollection of the 50 beans I just stuffed into my mouth.
Then, I’d just start lying to myself. I would say that I was showing restraint by not eating the black ones. But I just don’t really like the taste of licorice. I feel shame. But it won’t stop me from eating another big bag all by myself next Easter. Please, dear Easter Bunny, save me from myself. Keep me away from the sweet, sweet beans.