Repeat After Us: I Will Stop Eating Candy in 2007

I scan the streets looking for a solution. The first thing that I focus on is the Popeyes across the street. A buttery biscuit with gooey honey and jam just might suffice.

"I'll take a biscuit with honey and jam," I tell the woman behind the Plexiglas window.

Photograph by Jen Davis, for Alex Cao Studio. Styling by:

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More About

• Felicia Desrosiers
• Richard Bernstein
• Skittles
• Metabolic Disorders
• Diet and Nutrition

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She turns around to wrap one up.

"Wait," I say. "I'll take two."

She adds another biscuit to the bag.

"Can you throw in another pack of honey and jam while you're at it?"

She follows directions and hands me my purchase. My hands sift through the contents of the bag. They wrap around a pack of honey. My teeth rip it open. I unravel the soft, hot biscuit and squirt the honey onto the top. I moan as I take the first bite. It's so moist, so succulent. I let the contents melt in my mouth. The bliss lasts for about 30 seconds. After the sixth bite, I realize that this might have been a mistake. My stomach begins to ache as I near the biscuit's end.

In a strange way, eating that bite of sugar (in the form of gooey honey and jam) reminds me that sweets really are the root of all evil and that, without them, I can possibly live a better life. Sure, eating candy feels good for 30 to 45 seconds, but after the initial high is over, I feel miserable. I guess I finally understand what Desrosiers was preaching—that the short high you get from eating the candy simply isn't worth it.

So now I've made it. I'm at the end of week three.

Total number of times I wanted to give up: 99.

Total number of urges I had to hit myself in the face with a baseball bat to divert my attention from sweets: 57.

Total number of minutes spent staring hopelessly at vending machines and newsstand displays of candy: 16.

But let's also look at the bright side of things:

Total packs of candy eaten: Zero.

Total amount of sweets consumed: Nada.

Total times I relapsed: Borscht.

Well, I guess if you want to get technical, you might consider the luscious piece of carrot cake I had last Saturday at 11:46 p.m. to celebrate my success a sweet. But that doesn't count. That was a reward.