Years ago, the D.A.R.E. program warned me not to become a statistic. Sure, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration has over a century of experience crafting careful nutrition guidelines. But right now, it’s 4am and I stand alone in my dorm room. Even El Jefe’s—that gastronomic patron saint of students with poor life choices—has closed her doors for the night. The only thing left at Brain Break is a giant loaf of that weird marble bread that nobody likes. I beg myself to just go to sleep and wake up early for breakfast tomorrow…

And yet, they beckon. Silhouetted against the pale winter moon, sitting atop my bookshelf. My Vitamin D adult gummies.

Can you really blame me for succumbing to the gummies’ siren song? As Eve could not resist the fruit of the tree of knowledge, neither can I resist the decadence of Corn Syrup, Sugar, Water, Gelatin, Citric Acid, Corn Starch, Coconut Oil, Natural Flavors, Malic Acid, Tartaric Acid, Carnauba Wax, and Colors Added. The child-safe cap is no match for me, because I am not a child. I am an adult, and these are my gummies.

And yet, no matter how many gummies I consume, I still feel as empty as I did when I began. Maybe it’s because the void in my soul will never be fulfilled by material pleasures. Or maybe it’s because a single serving of adult gummies only contains 1% of the FDA’s recommended daily value of carbohydrates and I haven't eaten anything of real substance in ten hours. The world may never know. 

I know some people will judge me. But you haven’t truly lived until you’ve felt an intense feeling of shame after guzzling a bottle of gummies like a bag of movie popcorn, followed by Googling what happens when you eat too many adult gummies in one sitting. It's true, the back label only suggests two gummies per serving. But two gummies are a tease. Two gummies are torture. One more can’t hurt, can it? Or another. Or just one more.

One thing is certain: if God had not wanted us to eat more gummies, He would not have made them so damn yummy.