I won a box of diabetes

November 27, 2014, I received Mel's package in the mail which contained a bag of Christmas chocolates, a box of Zingers, and a box of Twinkies. The chocolates would have been the death of me if I were that allergic to nuts. Instead, the melted peanut butter pooplets were devoured. This was the start, I won a box of diabetes.

Actual photograph of a "Christmas tree shaped Reese's Cup"

Scared of the potential addiction the Hostess boxes would bring, I waited. It wasn't until December 10th that I started writing this terribly boring journal entry style blog post about my carefully eating the Zingers one by one, because surely those were meant to give the most diabetes at once. The truth is I didn't like the Zingers, and they seemed pretty much like glorified Twinkies. They have what looks and feels like shredded coconut all around them, but it doesn't really taste like coconut. They have "raspberry icing" that tastes like whipped sugar with a tinge of menstrual blood for color, and then you chew it and it's like eating a sponge with whipped cream in the middle. Sorry, Mel. I wasn't impressed.

Dead set on eating the whole box on my own, a bit over a month passed by. I never even opened the Twinkies box, I figured it was just a longer Zinger with less sugar coating. What was there to miss? I slowly ate the sugar coated tampon—Zingers, and I did eventually learn to like them, but it wasn't amazing. I felt nothing but confusion.

And then I got high.

I'm not one to smoke very often. I do, but it's not a thing. So in an unforeseen event, a friend came over and we exercised our recreational rights before my realizing I had half a box of Zingers left and all the appetite in the world.

The raspberry taste was so clear, the "coconut" shreds were the perfect textural addition to the spongy goodness. I was happy. But only about as happy as I am when I wake up after a party without a hangover. It's pleasant, but soon forgotten. It was with blind faith that I trusted the food gods as I opened the Twinkies up and unwrapped one golden chemically induced sponge cake.

Proof of existence

Let me just say, there is a science— there is a mother fucking science to eating a Twinkie. One end contains more cream filling than the other, and just by looking at the bottom you can tell which end that is. That end goes first into the mouth, and unless you want to waste the taste of glory oozing down your throat, upon entering that first section into your vocal cavity you must shove the rest of it inside. The cream will dampen the rest of the cake, and the experience can be completed. If you do not look like a blowfish, you are doing something wrong. I would recommend trying again, practice makes perfect.

After learning how to perfectly blow a Twinkie, I realized at the pace I was going I really would give myself the diabetes I've worked so hard not to fall under. I stopped learning the science of Twinkies with two Twinks left to spare. I ate one the following day, and it was good, but it wasn't glory. I still have one left, it's been months.

I think I'll go eat it right now.