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Monday, September 29, 2014

Tricks Are For Kids!

This is a difficult time of year to eat responsibly at our house.  Everywhere I look, there are ceramic jack-o-lanterns crammed with Halloween goodies.  Glass skulls filled to capacity with the kinds of candy I wouldn't dream of eating any other time of year - Gummy Vampire Teeth, Chocolate Eyeballs, our beloved Nerd Rope.

I am solely to blame for this arsenal of low grade confection.

"The neighborhood kids will love these!" I mention to my husband as I browse the five foot wall of assorted fun-sized snacks at the supermarket.

"You love those," he replies.

I choose to ignore him.  Instead, I reach for an eight pound sack of Kit Kats.  They are layered like sandbags on the front lines of a battle between discretion and indulgence.  War is hell.

"I hope this will be enough."  I am totally serious.

I never anticipate things will become this ridiculous.  I scoff at the preliminary overtures that appear in August, before the seasons change.

"Already?" I gasp in disbelief.  "For heaven's sake, it's still Summer!"

The m&ms always catch my eye.  Carrot cake flavor is new.  So harmless.
"Hmm.  These look crazy.  I should probably check."

I drive straight home from the grocery store with my manageable pouch of little candies.  I transfer them into two dishes - one for the kitchen counter, and the other atop my dining room table.  They are both empty in the morning.  Better refill them.

As September begins, all food and beverages that used to taste normal become pumpkin flavored.  This transformation renders nearly everything we eat and drink irresistible.  Especially when slathered with whipped cream and covered in caramel.

Midway through October, I start turning to my workout clothes regularly.  Not because I'm exercising.  It's just that stretchy pants are more comfortable, and my regular clothes feel snug.  I'm polishing off my fair share of brownies and sucking down lattes like nobody's business.

These days after breakfast, I reach for an Almond Joy and a handful of Whoppers as if it's the most natural thing in the world.  There are little empty Sugar Baby boxes in both pockets of my robe; Butterfinger wrappers in the lint trap of the dryer.  I can't blame the kids or my dad.  They're mine.  I bury the evidence in the bottom of the garbage, so nobody hassles me.

Monday night as I undressed to take a shower, I found two melty Lemonheads in the waistband of my jeans.  I vaguely recall tossing a handful in the direction of my mouth earlier that evening.  I suppose it's possible that a few morsels may have bounced off my face and down the front of my shirt. Oh, I still ate them.  Of course, I did.  Candy's candy.

I brush my teeth six and seven times daily, in efforts to decontaminate the crime scene that occurs every time I eat FunDip, which let's face it, is a gateway drug.  It doesn't work.  As a matter of fact, the taste of toothpaste triggers the uncontrollable urge for Junior Mints.

By now, I feel like Halloween has already happened, at least a half dozen times. I've replenished my voice-activated cauldron so frequently in the last few weeks, I finally did myself a favor and removed the batteries.  I don't want to be reminded whenever I head toward that bowl.  For the same reason, I'm reluctant to purchase a FitBit bracelet.

Nevertheless, I am ready and waiting for Trick-or-Treaters - whenever they eventually show up.  But I've gotta be honest.  The only child who rang our doorbell recently was a boy scout selling popcorn so his troop could go on a rafting trip.   I hardly even cared that he wouldn't make eye contact.  I was so excited, I bought two giant containers.  

I just need to muscle through the next few weeks.  Maybe cut back on the Raisinets and Wax Fangs.  Then I can focus on eating more sensibly at Thanksgiving.

3 comments:

  1. In August, my youngest started talking about candy corners. I told her, small child that she was, that I wasn't buying halloween candy until October. Then the werther's caramel filled caramels came home and I fashioned them in a dish along with some unfilled caramels (which frankly aren't as good). The same day, my husband brought home s'mores candy corns and pumpkin flavored candy corns which were so terrible I could only choke down 25 or maybe 40. The real challenge I face every year is after the kids go trick-or-treating. I've contemplated buying some kind of candy safe or installing an electric pet fence, only around the candy and for me because the cats don't know chocolate. I appreciate this post so much. So wonderful to know I'm not alone.

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    Replies
    1. Support groups are a marvelous thing. :)

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  2. ha, candy corners! Like drug corners, no doubt. That should read candy corns, ahem.

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