“Five Pounds of Chocolate” or “How Did I Avoid the Freshman Fifteen?”

Vintage Queen of Awesome. Anyone who knows me know will be shocked by my hair.

While living in the dorms, Dr. Brew and I were the most popular chicks on our floor.

Because we had a mother fucking five pound Hershey bar.

A friend’s parents gave it to me for Christmas that year. And when word got around on our all-female floor that the second room from the end of the hall had all that chocolate, we got many visitors.

Many visitors.

We’d be sitting at our computers–probably playing the Sims instead of writing essays, probably IMing each other from across the room–and there’d be a knock at the door. We wouldn’t even have to guess what that person wanted.

We let whoever it was enter. They’d see the gigantic Hershey wrapper, and they’d drool. “Want a piece?” one of us would ask while the other one hacked at the chocolate with a dull-as-hell butter knife.

Because the answer was always yes.

The gigantic Hershey bar didn’t tast any different than a regular-sized bar or a Hershey Kiss. It was just novel and funny.

But even with the help of 60+ women (and a handful of guy friends, we weren’t sexist) all feigning for that massive mound of milk chocolate, it took almost the entire semester to get rid of it.

I honestly don’t think I’ve had a regular Hershey bar since.