Hot Pockets. Two words that send shivers down my spine. Not the good kind of shivers one gets when they are kissed by their love, or when their hands accidentally brush against each others as their eyes meet for half a second then they look away. No, I’m talking about completely different shivers. These are the kind one gets when they are extremely disgusted by something. So much so, that they cannot help but get cold chills and gag.

Let’s go back in time a bit, to the time when I was in seventh grade. Back then, children were making beautiful friendships that would last all through high school. Everyone wanted to fit in and be considered as one of the “cool” kids. These kids usually had the latest fashions and accessories, coolest products, such as latest iPhone, newest games- and the best lunches. No one likes school hot lunches, so the kids who had store bought or homemade lunches, they were the lucky ones. Eating my burnt, bitter tasting school pizza, I always longed to bite into one of the pizza pockets that most of the store bought lunches kids ate. I could almost taste the sweet and spicy hot pocket as I imagined my teeth sinking into the juicy center. The sharp smell of my burned and over seasoned pizza suddenly brought me back to reality. Dejected, I picked up my tray and threw it away, promising myself that tomorrow would be different.

Late that day, I asked my mom to buy me some hot pockets. Without hesitation, she agreed. As I wrapped my soft fuzzy blanket around myself that night, I fell asleep with a smile on my face. During lunchtime the next day, I walked into the little office where the microwave was stored to heat up my hot pocket. It was already being used by someone so I drifted off daydreaming about my savory hot pocket. Loud pops jerked me back as the small room exploded into a warzone of popcorn bursting around the small bag. The timer went off and the room was instantly filled with the sweet aroma of buttery popcorn. As I took a big whiff of the mouthwatering goodness, I felt as if all of my senses awakened and I suddenly wanted to stuff my face with the soft clouds of butterballs. The strange look my classmate Jerry gave me as he walked away with his popcorn quickly crushed that idea!

Turning to the microwave, finally it was my turn! I excitedly put my hot pocket into it’s protective slip and onto the microwave plate. Butterflies danced around in my stomach giving me a giddy feeling. Watching the now golden pizza pocket turn slowly around on the microwave platter, cheese oozed out of the sides making my mouth water.

I took out the steamy pizza pocket, I could not wait to bite into it and devour it whole. Taking a bite and chewing for a few seconds, I quickly realized how disappointed I was. This was not at all what I dreamed my hot pocket would taste like. Suddenly, I got a sick feeling in my stomach as the spicy smell that was once inviting became tremendously repugnant. The smell overpowered me and made me dizzy with disgust. My stomach started turning and I knew it was rejecting the bits of food I was so anxious to accept. I ran to the garbage can just in time. Chunks of my pizza pocket, half-digested and now slimy, flung themselves into the can.

After that incident, I could not get the sick feeling and smell out of my system. From that day on, I decided to stick to my school hot lunches, no matter how uninviting or smelly they were. Even now, whenever I smell a hot pocket, I get a sick feeling as I remember the day in seventh grade when my one beautiful dream turned into a horrid nightmare.