9 Tips to Avoid the Desire to Eat Crayons

Look at you. Reading an article about not eating crayons.

This is what Tuesday night has become. That 64-pack is giving you feelings. Inappropriate feelings. Burnt Umber is looking like a forbidden snack and frankly, that’s between you and whatever deity you believe in.

But fine. Let’s do this.

1. News Flash: Art Supplies Aren’t on the Food Pyramid

We need to have a conversation about the fact that we need to have this conversation.

Somewhere along the way, Crayola decided to name their products after food. “Peach.” “Apricot.” “MACARONI AND CHEESE.” This is psychological terrorism and nobody’s talking about it. They’re out here naming crayons like a Cheesecake Factory menu and then acting surprised when Gerald from accounting gets caught mid-bite during the quarterly meeting.

You want to know what’s really messed up? They put “non-toxic” on the label. You know what that sounds like? A dare. That’s what that sounds like.

2. The Geography of Poor Life Choices

Real talk: You can’t eat what you can’t reach. Unless you’re some kind of crayon-seeking missile, in which case, seek help immediately.

3. Methadone for Crayon Addicts

Your mouth is having an existential crisis. It wants things. Waxy things. Colorful things. Things that were never meant to pass through a human digestive system.

So give it something else to fixate on:

• Wax candy bottles (literally crayon methodone)
• Those paper strips that taste like disappointment but at least they’re food
• Frozen grapes (hear me out – they’re crunchy AND they melt)
• Actual candles (KIDDING. Don’t eat candles either, what is wrong with you people)

None of these will satisfy the deep crayon craving in your soul. But they might keep you from explaining to your dentist why your molars are Periwinkle.

4. We Need to Talk About What Happens After

Everyone’s so focused on prevention. Nobody wants to discuss the technicolor aftermath.

Your intestines weren’t built for this. Four million years of evolution and nowhere did nature account for you panic-eating a 24-pack of washables during a Netflix binge. Your body will remind you of this. Repeatedly. In colors you didn’t know existed in nature.

Then there’s explaining it to people. “Why are you banned from the craft store?” “Why does your kid’s teacher keep the supplies locked up?” “Is that… is that Midnight Blue in your teeth?”

These are conversations you can’t come back from.

5. Reconditioning Your Broken Brain

Time to go full Clockwork Orange on yourself. But with crayons.

The game plan:

• See crayon
• Feel the darkness creeping in
• Immediately bite a lemon
• Not working? Bite another lemon
• Still want the crayon? Seek professional help

There’s a woman in Tucson who trained herself to cry every time she sees Forest Green. She hasn’t eaten a crayon in four years but also can’t go hiking anymore. Victories have costs.

6. Welcome to Fight Club (But for Crayon Eaters)

First rule of Crayon Club: You tell everyone about Crayon Club because accountability matters and you need help.

Meeting behind the old Hobby Lobby. Look for the people with suspicious teeth stains and shame in their eyes. Everyone goes by their “rock bottom” color. You’ll meet Salmon (ate a whole box at her daughter’s recital), Cerulean (doesn’t want to talk about it), and Raw Umber (claims it was “just once” but we all know better).

The meetings get weird. Someone will eventually suggest crayon wine pairings “hypothetically.” Someone else will have spreadsheets ranking brands by mouthfeel. You’ll realize these are your people now.

Process that.

7. Everything Is a Trigger and That’s Your Reality Now

Trying to identify your triggers is like trying to identify which raindrop got you wet. It’s all of them. It’s always all of them.

But the usual suspects:

• Any store with a school supply section
• Children existing in your vicinity
• The letter C
• Rainbows (nature’s crayon advertisement)
• Consciousness

Martha from group claims her only trigger is “days ending in Y” and honestly? Relatable.

8. Have You Considered Not Being Near Crayons Ever

Revolutionary thought: What if you just… didn’t?

“But adult coloring books help with stress!” You know what’s stressful? Explaining to your gastroenterologist why you’re passing Atomic Tangerine. Maybe try yoga. Yogis don’t eat their equipment. Usually.

Alternative hobbies for the wayward crayon enthusiast:

• Aggressive sudoku
• Competitive bread making
• Staring into the middle distance
• Literally anything that doesn’t involve waxy temptation

9. The Relapse Recovery Shame Spiral Survival Guide

You did it. You ate the crayon. Maybe it was Scarlet. Maybe it was a whole rainbow. Doesn’t matter. What matters is what happens next.

Step 1: Stop eating crayons Step 2: No really, stop Step 3: Hydrate until you slosh Step 4: Delete your browser history Step 5: Move to a new city Step 6: Try again

Or don’t. Maybe this is just who you are now. The crayon person. There are worse things to be. Probably.

So here’s where we’ve landed. You, an allegedly functioning adult, need a guide to not eat art supplies. This is your life. These are your choices.

But you’re here. Reading this instead of taste-testing the rainbow. That’s… something.

The truth nobody wants to admit? We’re all just barely holding it together. Some people eat their feelings. Some people eat crayons. At least your problem is colorful.

Keep fighting the good fight. Stay strong. Remember that somewhere out there, someone else is reading this article at 3 AM, Goldenrod wrapper in hand, wondering where it all went wrong.

You’re not alone. You’re just weird.

And if you’re thinking about scented markers as a loophole? Don’t. Just don’t. That’s a different article and a darker path.