Tear tape, where art thou?

I know, I know. This is so #firstworldproblems. However, two incidents affected me so strongly that I just had to put this down in words.

Tear Tape is that (usually) red line that runs on the inside of packaging. It helps you open the packet with ease, ensuring there’s no fuss or frustration. What frustration you may ask.

Why, frustration like these…

I know of some people who have no faith in how manufacturers seal their items, that their default go-to method is to use their teeth. Even if there’s a pair of scissors at an arm’s length away, this person will *still* rip open a bag of chips like a rabid dog. (I use to be that person, don’t judge)

Personally these tear strips make my life so much easier to the point that I am dependent on them (serves you right for depending on something so stupid). I realized the importance of these during my maternity leave.

Having food around the house was vitally important to me because I was hungry all the time. It was probably due to breastfeeding and burning all those calories worrying about the little human that I was in charge of keeping alive. Since I wasn’t allowed to go outside (curse you, stupid old-fashioned, not scientifically proven beliefs) visitors would bring me food. Apart from the meals that I would get, I would also receive Kit Kat chocolates. I was never a fan of Kit Kat, not because I didn’t like them, it’s just that I’m not a chocolate girl. Ice-cream yes, chocolate not so much (chocolate ice-cream? yuck!)

However, when I was peckish and felt the need to munch on something, I realized I just couldn’t stop at one Kit Kat

I could eat a least 10 without even thinking twice.

This progressed to sneaking away from a snoozing baby to quickly pop two fingers of Kit Kat in my mouth. It was starting to be an addiction.

Now imagine my surprise when one bag of Kit Kat had no tear tape. Not one Kit Kat had a tear tape. I know this, because I ate them all obviously. Oh the horrific effects!

I would try to tear it open, expecting a clean break but instead, I’d just tear of an inconsequential corner. I’d keep going until, completely frustrated, I’d have to get my trusty scissors. This wouldn’t be a problem but having a baby and a pair of scissors nearby is not ideal.

Here’s the second incident that traumatized me and made me a slave to tear tape.

I was on a diet and really wanted a Kit Kat. So I made a dash to the refrigerator (I know, I was desperate) and tore open a two-fingered Kit Kat bar. Guess what? No tear tape. The condensation, clumsy fingers, blunt teeth and overall mission-impossible mode made it the least enjoyable piece of chocolate I’ve ever consumed.

Why yes, I got busted by my husband who happened to wonder what was all the cursing coming from the kitchen. How’s your new year’s resolution going, huh? Huh? HUH?

So, the next time you see a tear tape that helped you achieve that clean, sleek, plastic breakaway, be grateful. Be grateful that you don’t have a picture of yourself hunched over a red rectangular piece of candy, looking like the creature from Henry Fuseli’s The Nightmare.