Years ago, when we lived on a cul-de-sac where the houses were far apart, we got very few trick-or-treaters for Halloween. Nevertheless, for some reason each year I would panic that we would run out of candy and I would have to resort to handing out boxes of raisins, which would definitely result in my house getting egged by disgruntled trick-or-treaters. So, in fear of being yolked, I would buy about six bags of candy and sure enough, each year we’d only get about a dozen kids at our door. At the end of the night, we were left with one rotting pumpkin, all the raisins and four bags of candy.
Of course, my kids were always overjoyed. They figured whatever didn’t get distributed from our house would go back to them. Forget the fact that they brought home enough sugar from their trick-or-treating to put a diabetic elephant into a coma. No, as far as they were concerned, they had squatters’ rights, and if the candy didn’t leave the house, it was rightfully theirs.
But I begged to differ.
As far as I was concerned, the candy was mine. And I love candy. I adore candy. I would rather eat candy than any meal. No matter what I tell the kids, candy IS better than fruits and vegetables, hands down. I don’t care if it melts in my mouth AND melts in my hands. I want candy and I WANT IT NOW!!!
OK. Breathe. Deep, cleansing, chocolate-free breaths.
Good. I got that out of my system. But clearly this was a problem… a weighty problem. Four bags of candy. One candy-lovin’ mama. You do the math. No matter how many lunges and squats I did between Halloween and Christmas, if I kept all that candy, I would eat it and I would turn into a suburban Oompa Loompa.
In the past, I’d tried to beat this trend by buying candy I didn’t like. For me this meant the kind with coconut and almonds. Unfortunately, the kids didn’t like this kind either, so it backfired. They only took the good stuff and left me with all the coconut and almonds, which, in the throes of a chocolate emergency, I would eat anyway. There’s nothing in the rule book about licking the chocolate off the coconut.
This year I’m an empty nester, and we now live on a street where the houses are even farther apart. Not having learned my lesson, I still overbought Halloween candy to make sure we didn’t run out. But without any kids in my house, it was a certainty that any remaining candy would end up in my mouth, and later, on my thighs… assuming the candy even made it to Halloween. Not sure what to do about this potential chocapocalypse, I tossed the bags onto the kitchen table and went out to buy cut-up carrots, the anti-candy.
Did I mention that the table is next to a big picture window?
A window that gets direct sunlight all day?
When I got home, my bags of chocolate candy had become bags of chocolate goop.
Which, by the way, taste just fine that way.
Tracy Beckerman is the author of the Amazon Bestseller “Barking at the Moon: A Story of Life, Love, and Kibble,” available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble online! You can visit her at www.tracybeckerman.com.
