I mentioned in Friday’s post that I’m not a huge Halloween person. Costumes, haunted houses, and fake spiderweb decor made of cotton just doesn’t really do it for me.
But the candy? The candy is an entirely different story.
Last week, Scott and I picked up a bag full of full-size Reese’s Peanut Butter cups at Menard’s. While I didn’t officially keep track, I’d say I ate about twenty-six of them over the course of four hours. I debated admitting that the internet, but have ultimately decided to own it. Consuming that many peanut butter cups without even a hint of indigestion is pretty impressive, if you think about it.
Needless to say, Halloween candy and I get along swimmingly. If I had to pick, I’d say my favorites are Snickers, Peanut Butter Cups, Heath Toffee, Twix and Peanut Butter M&Ms…but I don’t discriminate. I even like plastic wrapped butterscotches and Almond Joys. If the majority of its caloric value comes from sugar, I’m game.
This weekend, Scott and I found ourselves in Nebraska for a Cornhusker football game. Yes — that means we witnessed this little piece of football history. (From seats in a VIP suite our friend had scored. Naturally, I was eating complimentary peanut butter cups when it happened.)
A weekend back in the Cornhusker state meant stops at Scott’s sister’s place and our good friends’ home. Both of them have three children, which meant the spoils of trick-or-treating were out in abundance.
Insert Katrina, running around a la Templeton the Rat in Charlotte’s Web, snatching up way more than her fair share of Heath Bars.
Granted, both parents had requested we eat some of the candy. “There’s no way I’m letting the kids eat all of this. Please take some. We’re bringing it all to the donation bin at the dentist’s office next week, anyway.”
“Oh no,” I politely declined. “I would feel terrible eating the kids’ Halloween candy. Plus…I’m really trying to stay away from sugar before my trip to Australia.”
As it turns out, even the best of intentions don’t hold a candle to my lack of will power in the face of fun sized chocolate. (Seriously…how does eating 12 fun-size Snickers somehow feel like fewer calories than a full-size bar?)
Later that afternoon, this happened.
No, that cracked little nugget in my hand isn’t a deformed piece of white chocolate. (Oh how I wish it was.) The above photo depicts the temporary crown I had put over my back left molar last Monday. I’m sad to report that it popped right off in the middle of tailgating.
Scott argues it’s because I was chomping on caramel corn. Still…I can’t help but wonder if this is Jack Skellington’s supernatural way of punishing me for quite literally stealing candy from a baby on his special day.
The worse part? Losing my “sweet tooth” didn’t seem to change much. Even after the crown had dislodged, I was spotted using only the right side of my mouth to chomp down on Laffy Taffy originally intended for a miniature dinosaur, superhero and swamp zombie.
(This right here is why I should never become a parent.)