I have a small problem. I like being skinny, but I like eating candy. I like Reese’s, Twix and Milky Way. The Milk Duds sing little love songs about me and the Twizzlers remind me of my childhood and my brother. Oh, it’s not just candy… white cheddar popcorn whispers my name after the kids go to bed and the Little Debbie cakes scream it.
Some people wind down with wine. I’m not a wine drinker, but I have heard so many people say they need to wind down with a glass of wine after a long day. Candy and reality TV are my wine. That’s how I unwind and de-stress.
But then I gain weight. So, I made sure there was no candy in the house to sing me love songs or call my name. Until… Halloween. It's been weeks, but it’s still in my house, like unwelcome little guests in individually wrapped packages. I can’t let my kids eat it all at once. I’m not friendly with a dentist or a millionaire, so, as a good parent, I should probably regulate their sugar intake. But it’s there, mocking me, calling me, taunting me. The scariest part of Halloween is when the candy starts speaking to you from behind a closed pantry door.
I LOVE snacking while I watch TV I mean, after two hours of picking up dirty clothes off the floor, trying to wrestle kids into pajamas and bed, scrubbing toothpaste off of the bathroom counter, wiping down a kid who squeezed said toothpaste all over herself for fun, finding lost blankies, hearing a kid who doesn’t need water for 12 hours suddenly desperately need it and can’t sleep without it, having to yell at another one to turn off the light, packing tomorrow’s lunches… I would say a little wind down time is just what I need.
It’s all good and wonderful and blissful until 3 a.m. when I’m awake thinking about how yuck I feel. Oh, why did I eat so much sugar? I feel so gross. Every night I resolve to start the next day with a fresh, clean, healthy slate. And every morning I pour a bowl of Lucky Charms and forget about it.
Until last week. Last week I had great resolve. I was going to be strong. I was going to exude self-control. I was determined. I did great. I drank only water and watched my portions. I watched everyone else finishing Halloween candy and I stayed strong. I turned my back on the pantry door with confidence.
I couldn’t wait to see how much I had lost in the first week.
I gained a pound.
I told my husband to pass the Milky Way and hand me a Twix. “What happened to your resolve,” he asked. Oh, phooey. Enough of “resolve.” It’s no fun.
Eventually the taunting calories and sugar will be gone and I will resolve again. Just in time for Thanksgiving. After that it will be Christmas cookies and baking Christmas morning cinnamon rolls, making party mix and enjoying treats. New Year’s resolutions are just around the corner, but I know better than to believe my self-control lasts very long, so I don’t make resolutions very often.
I blame the kids. I used to have time to exercise and walk and swim and I had a gym. Nobody told me kids came with sticky fingers because a sucker from the bank is constantly attached to their hands. It’s hard to resist all the evil foes that come with childhood. I mean, baking Christmas cookies is probably more important to their childhood memories than whether or not I can fit into “those” jeans again. Right?
I have until swimsuit season to worry about it.
P.S. Because it’s the year 2020 and everyone eats kale now (as if the world isn’t weird enough), I feel a strong need to let the judge-y moms out there know this was written to make you feel I am relatable and for you to laugh. Don’t send me emails with your diet plans, with “helpful” comments about how my kids shouldn’t eat sugar and most of all don’t judge me from afar. I love you. We are all trying to survive.
