Easter Candy is Eggscellent - But I STILL Hate It!

When I was growing up, Easter was always like a mini-Christmas. I would lie awake at night, listening for the hoppity-hop-hop of the big ole bunny until sleep fell over me. When I awoke, I’d run downstairs - über early of course, much to my parents chagrin - falling, tripping in anticipation – what presents did the bunny leave for me under the Easter egg tree this year?

Yes I will be twenty-six next month and yes I still get presents on Easter. I’m not ashamed to admit it.
But there is one thing surrounding this holiday that really kind of makes it my favorite. What, you may ask? Come on, it should be obvious by now. What with all my talk of all things sweet. DUH peeps, it’s the candy!! There’s no holiday candy better than Easter candy.

Easter candy and I have a love/hate relationship. Each year I eagerly await the advent of Cadbury Mini Eggs (they tried to bring em out in red and green and white for Christmas but really, they just weren’t the same…I wanted to like them, really I did. But the colors messed everything up for me - that and the fact that eggs and Santa don't really go together).

I worship you, Easter colored Cadbury Mini Eggs, you delicious melt-in-your-mouth chocolates surrounded by that pretty, pastel, thin, crunchy, candy shell. You are without a doubt the most delicious candy in all the land!

This year, though, I’ve been acutely aware and very sensitive of my relationship with Mini Eggs. I’ve grown to - gasp - resent them. They've made me behave like a madwoman. I can’t believe a harmless little purple bag of Heaven has transformed me into a nut job who's one step away from the chick with the chicken in Girl, Interrupted.

Last week I swindled my coworker into going to CVS with me to get, you guessed it, Easter candy. Immediately I noticed a bag of Miniature Reese's Peanut Butter Cups that had been torn open. There they were, those sparkling pink and green and gold and blue foiled treats, glinting like a mermaid's scales amongst a sea of Skittles and Snickers and Starbursts. I had barely scanned the area for informants before my hand struck, a snake attacking it's prey. I snatched two, three, four of the waylaid Cups and plunged them into my pocket. My co could hardly believe her eyes. What oh what have I become!

My animalistic demise began when those g-d Mini Eggs had the nerve to come out before Valentine’s Day was even over. Then they went on sale before Easter even arrived. And of COURSE Easter has to be super duper late this year. The universe is against me. I’ve become one of those psychotic Y2K hoarders. Anxiety has forced me to stash away as many bags of Mini Eggs as possible because I know that inevitably, like every year, they will soon be no more. Poof! And they’re gone.

So there they sit, those most holy stockpiled bags, tied up in a Duane Reade bag (like that will offer any protection from my rabid paws). I know they’re bad but they call out to me, enticing me, like the stupid ring in Lord of the Rings, and I just can’t say no. They always, always win. Defeated, I run to my cabinet, untie the "protective" Duane Reade bag, and select my purple pouch of poison. I don’t stop until all the eggs are gone.

I hate you Mini Eggs, why do you have to be so good??
And then there’s the jellybeans. Starburst jellybeans, to be precise. I used to be a big Teenie Beanie fan. Jelly Belly’s were also a fave. But Starburst, I’ve learned, are really where it’s at. Seriously, they must sprinkle crack in the gelatin because once I rip open bag I can’t stop until there’s nothing but nothing.

What scares me most about those delicious Starburst jellybeans, though, is that they’re available all year round. Why oh why oh why do I act maniacal, like they’re only here for a limited time? It’s crack I tell you, crack! Shit yo. I'm so screwed.
Some people think the Cadbury Creme Eggs with faux yellow yolk are repulsive. I, perhaps somewhat unfortunately, think they're scrumptious. Especially when the white and yellow sugar is nice and oozy – I don't particularly love when I get an egg and the sugar has solidified a little. Makes me think I’m eating foam or something. But I still gobble it, obvi. Again, they're only around for a short while.

But the King's of all stupid King’s, the crowing Easter candy glories, are by far and away contained within the walls of Jacques Torres. It’s so very, very unfortunate that I work across the street from this mouthwatering chocolate-confection-concoctery. It is the Willy Wonka Factory of New York City. Sick, sick, sick. Regular-sized Oompa Loompas in white coats and hats create cute and cuddly calves, ginormous lambs, colossal eggs, bright red roosters…pretty much any animate and inanimate object you associate with Easter, they make.

I sit at my desk, trying my hardest to focus on the Excel spreadsheet at hand, but oversized bunnies of delicious dark chocolate, milk chocolate, and white chocolate hop and dance before my eyes. I can’t take it Thumper, I want to bite your head off! Why do you have to tempt me so!

So really, Easter candy is a dankes-but-no-dankes. Perhaps it's a dankes-too-much that it, by default, becomes a no dankes.

Either way, I'm looking forward to May and the disappearance of Easter candy fo sho.

Now I just have to figure out how to get those stupid Starburst jellyb's out of my head...