Along with the sight of mysterious gentlemen sneaking out in the wee morning hours and the revolting buildup of hair in the shower drain, a kitchen full of 100-calorie packs goes with the territory of sharing a house with seven girls. The concept is ingeniously stupid: one serving of classic Oreos consists of three cookies and 160 calories. Because Americans can’t be expected to stop themselves after one serving, better to grab a 100-calorie pack of Oreo Thin Crisps.
As much as I want to be offended that these products prey on women’s insecurities, I also realized that 100-calorie packs might finally provide a path for me to lose weight without exercising or eating healthily. To test this theory, I decided to spend a day subsisting on only 100-calorie packs (picture the exact opposite of Supersize Me).
To lose one pound per week, someone of my build should be eating about 1600 calories each day, which means 16 100-calorie packs, one per every waking hour. 100-calorie breakfast options are scarce, so I began my day with an Oreo-flavored granola bar. I regretted this decision almost immediately; granola should never taste like tar. In the future, I’ll stick to Kudos bars, even if they are a few extra calories.
As the day went on, I also sampled miniature Lorna Doones, Jell-O pudding and Cheetos, all of which provided excellent alternatives to their full-scale versions. For a mid-afternoon dessert, I pit Chips Ahoy cookie crisps against Pepperidge Farm Chocolate Chunk cookies: the latter won, handily beating the former’s glorified crackers. Other highlights included finding a 100-calorie version of M&M’s hidden in FroGro’s candy aisle and stumbling upon 100-calorie Milano cookies at Target: a pack contains two full-sized cookies!
Still, one of the main downsides of eating in only 100-calorie increments is the inevitable disappointment. I was delighted to discover that Little Debbie makes 100-calorie yellow cakes… until I opened the package to discover a snack fit for Thumbelina. Paying such precise attention to the caloric content of my food made me a little paranoid: did the 100 calories include the pudding that sticks to the lid? What if my bag of M&M’s seemed fuller than usual — could the count be trusted?
As much as I like the simplicity of my 100-calorie snack attacks, I know I should probably start eating food that contains actual nutritional value. 100-calorie fried Oreos at Fling would be pretty amazing, though.
