Simple - I don’t like it.
And come today November 1st, I don’t want or need a bunch of the good stuff (Milky Ways, Snickers, Rolos, basically anything with chocolate and caramel) hanging around my house.
I see people post things on Facebook about having to hide the Halloween candy because yikes! It’s too tempting and oh my God, how they ate four whole pieces and feel like a pig.
And I laugh. Because I can relate.
And I laugh. Because four pieces is like the appetizer to
the appetizer of my yearly candy binge.
Yup – here I go again, if you’re exhausted by the body image posts, like this one or this one or any of the countless other ones you may want to run screaming now.
Or you may want to settle in for another bumpy, bingey, sweaty, rotten ride.
The span between Halloween and Christmas is awesome and brutal for obvious reasons, but for an all-or-nothing type of gal like me, Halloween candy is the worst. And the best. And the worst.
As I type this, I’m thinking “all-or-nothing type of gal” is a kinder, more "cute" way to say BINGE EATER.
There was an amazing Halloween party at my moms work last Friday. Every year all the employees dress up, there is a flash mob dance number (if you haven’t seen a bunch of secretaries dance to "Thriller" I highly recommend it) and of course there is trick-or-treating.
So here’s what came home with me and my boys and is on my kitchen table RIGHT NOW:
Two GIANT buckets of the good stuff, no shit candy here, not a Necco in sight.
Of course I’ve eaten a bunch of it. Of course I’m trying to be all sneaky about it. Of course I’m fooling nobody, especially myself.
I mean the first Reese’s Peanut Butter cup is delicious – the ninth one is pretty revolting.
It’s such a vicious cycle, it’s such a drug. The high, the gut-ache, the hangover the next morning, the guilt, guilt, guilt.
Just when I think I have it under control I find myself at the end of every October wondering how I’m still here, in this same spot in my head - and same spot in my gut - and in my thighs.
It’s not the end of the world and I’m totally fine and I’m a lucky girl and I know that - in the big picture I don’t have any problems. My only problem today is that my skirt is tight and I’m bloated. Big fucking deal.
I’m tired of being a broken record that skips in the same spot. And not a good record like Let it Bleed or Tattoo You.
I’m more like some bad album by Creed or the Forrest Gump soundtrack.
And for that, I apologize not only to myself, but to everybody on the entire planet.
|Life is like a box of chocolate.|
And a pumpkin head full of Reese's, Kit Kats, Twix, and caramel-filled eyeballs.
'Eff you Forrest Gump.