Gimme A Break, Gimme A Break

Once upon a time before I had the glamorous life of SAHM, I actually showered everyday and got dressed before noon because I had two jobs (but only two kids). One (job, not kid) was full-time at a hospital and the other was part-time doing billing for a shop that put together and delivered gift baskets. I was usually all alone at night upstairs at the gift shop, just the way I like it, but it was very busy during the holidays so in December I had company.

On one such occasion all the basket-making elves were busy, busy, busy behind me when the owner's teenage daughter went downstairs on a snack run and asked if I wanted anything. Since I actually had a metabolism back then, she got me a Pepsi and a Kit Kat. This was when the standard bar came with FOUR Kit Kat fingers, not three like they do now. (BTW - is it super gross that they call them fingers or is it just me for reasons that will become clear by the end of this post?)

I was busy, busy, busy too and had the candy bar on my lap while I typed. I had eaten three of the (gulp) fingers and taken a bite of the fourth when I happened to look down. What I saw was (similar to) this:

Several of them all in the wrapper and coming out of the last half of the last finger of Kit Kat. (Note: Until today whenever I told this story I said they were maggots, but now after some research I think they're Indian Meal Moth worms. That's better, right?)

For those of you who don't know me, I am a very picky eater. My kids have NOTHING on me when it comes to food pickiness. And remember Fear Factor? I gagged at every eating-nasty-$#!t challenge they ever had. Literally, violently gagged to the point where I would gross out the kids and they'd start to gag too and we'd have tears running down our faces, both from retching and laughing at each other.

But I'm not a panicky person and managed to keep my poop in a group and not flip out. Mostly I didn't want anyone to notice me and start gathering around. So I took a few deep breaths and calmed down and told myself that people in Africa (and other places I don't want to go) eat worms and grubs all the time, if not worse things.

It worked. I crumpled up the wrapper with the maggot motel inside and chugged some Pepsi.

I set back to work without anyone noticing that I was a disgusting worm eater who should be squatting in the dirt in third-world country.

Until....

I looked down again and saw a straggler writhing around on my skirt, spastically flipping its tail back and forth like a jedi swinging his lightsaber.

That's when I ran and, luckily, made it to the bathroom before I barfed those mofos up. So much for keeping the worm-eater thing under wraps.