When you are done going poop, you want to go get some Guns and Liquor?

I may or may not have actually said that sentence to someone this past weekend. Sadly my diet is what has gone down the toilet. I was doing very well for quite some time and then came Halloween. Full of candy and liquor, it is Halloween, not Thanksgiving that leaves my good intentions passed out in a steamy pile of their own vomit. For this sweet toothed girl, nothing beats a good Carmel-apple-tini. It is not even Halloween yet and already I have paid for my numerous transgressions by washing my scale in a pool of my own sugary, alcoholic tears. By the time all the candy at the office is gone, I will in no way shape or form fit into my tiny costume.
I will have you know that I did go to a party this weekend. I did wear a costume. I did look great. I did not eat enough before I went. I did not drive. I did not feel well the next day. When you wake up and go to let the dog out and think you may have left your head upstairs you know it was an interesting night. When you and your friend agree that no more drinking should be done EVER for reasons no one wishes to discus, well then it is time for McDonalds.
I have McDonalds about 2 times a year. Something about the greasy nastiness of McDonalds drives the point home. The point being that I can no longer drink like I used to. The point also being that candy is the more enjoyable of the Halloween vices once you factor in massive hangovers. Lucky for me, I get to be DD for the next party. (Yeah, I know you aren’t supposed to WANT to be the designated driver but I am strange like that)
It is at this point in the post that I realize my Mother might read this. Sorry Mama.
Back to the candy. Fun sized candy really is fun. Anything that is smaller than normal is fun. Being small makes the candy seem less threatening; like your waistline will not suffer because you ate 3 small Snickers instead of 1 large one. The fact that this sense of security is an illusion really just fits into the whole Halloween theme. “It’s not real.” You can tell yourself. “Someone has rigged my scale in an effort to frighten the living daylights out of me.” (Discussion question: Are there “living nightlights” or “dying daylights”, or even “living day-darks”?) So now we have established that my Halloween will include more candy, less drinking and no scales of any kind. About the time I recover it will be time to take on Christmas cookies and hot buttered rum. Damn the gym for not being more fun.