When 100 Calorie Packs Turn Into 1,000 Calories

100 Calorie Packs are undoubtedly the most dangerous innovation the food industry has seen since fun size candy bars. Why, you might ask? BECAUSE NO ONE CAN EAT JUST ONE! (BTdubbs, whoever worked for Lay’s and came up with that slogan is, quite simply, a genius.)

Perhaps I speak in generalizations far too grand. I know that I, at least, certainly cannot consume but one 100 Calorie Pack. No, no. For me they are “diet” sabotage…for sure.

When the aforementioned packs are nearby, I become a crazy woman with the approximate self-constraint of a monkey in a cage chocked with bananas, or a seal swimming in a pool full of dead fish, or Cooper with his dog dish drowning in American cheese.

In short, if there are 100 Calorie Packs in my cabinet, my name might as well be Eve. The temptation is far too great.

Yes, yes. Those teeny tiny portion control packets are good in theory, bad in practice. Am I the only person that can’t stop at one? Oreos and Cheetos and Doritos oh MY. The Chips Ahoy are chocolicious. The Teddy Grahams are cinnatastic. The Goldfish are saltisfying. Well that last one didn’t really work but hey, you win some you lose some.

I’ve enjoyed maaaany of the varieties many a time. And by the time I’ve had enough – well let’s just say it’s more like 600 or 700 calories that I’ve consumed.
Perhaps, though, my ultimate 100 Calorie low was a few weeks ago when I got the brilliant idea to recreate those most beloved Dunkaroos. Remember them? I sure do. Obvi.

Alone within the confines of my apartment, the necessity of being clandestine removed from my shoulders, I ripped open a few (no need to call myself out on how many precisely) 100 Cal packs of Lorna Doone’s. They are by far my most favorite 100 Calorie variety (one of my favorite full cal cookie varieties, and one of my most favorite books).

I hurriedly dumped the mini-Doone’s into a bowl and snatched my half empty container of Pillsbury vanilla frosting from the fridge. Don’t worry, I had bought it to ice a cake – my brilliant idea of Dunkaroo-inspired nostalgia didn’t come until after the icing had already been opened and partially used.
In a fit of madness, I dove that little shortbread cookie downward, dunking and swirling it round the tub of too-surgary, too-processed frosting. And boy was it – dare I say – better than the Dunkaroos of middle school’s past.

It’s a conspiracy, really. 100 Calorie Packs are such nonsense. No one can seriously eat just one. We just feel better about eating them because “100 Calories” seems like nothing. And I’m here to tell you, it’s something. Particularly when you’re throwing down 6 or 7 or 8 packs. And ESPECIALLY when you insist, like I so grotesquely do, to dip them – DIP them – in vanilla frosting.

Oh hello Mr. Simon. “…why am I soft in the middle now,” you ask? Because these stupid, sadistic manufacturers, à la Nabisco and Keebler and Frito-Lay and Hostess, have all banded together in a great, treacherous scheme!

Grocery stores I implore you, ban the 100 Calorie Packs! Or at least, for the love of my love handles, ban the frosting!