It’s time.
Time to admit that we will never again wear the raggedy white T-shirt with fake blood artfully splattered down the front, or the extra-long braided black wig with an attached beaded headband. I remember the year my husband dressed as a werewolf and the year I dressed as Pocahontas. I don’t think we wore those costumes in the same year … that would definitely be a strange match for a couple. I do know, based on the overpowering smell of mildew, that I hadn’t opened the box in years.
Thanks to the Florida humidity and a poorly insulated storage shed, most of the contents of several boxes needed to be tossed into the trash. The once treasured holiday decorations and Halloween costumes had seen their last days.
For weeks It’s been impossible to avoid the giant black and orange signs and cardboard cutouts of witches and ghouls, not to mention the bags upon bags of seemingly endless candy choices that are stacked from floor to ceiling. This year, as part of my effort to have more fun, I thought we might host a party rather than wait for an invitation and feel bad when none came along, which has been my pattern for several years.
We had some great Halloween parties when the kids were little. I’ve always enjoyed dressing up and crafting decorations and gross-out activities with bowls of spaghetti “brains” and grape “eyeballs.” One of the streets in our neighborhood was always closed to automobile traffic, and every child within a 10-mile radius would descend and trick or treat door to door while the parents gathered in small groups to exchange recipes and cocktails.
But kind of like going to see a cartoon movie without the kids, Halloween parties and trick-or-treating don’t feel like adult activities. We tried hanging some lights and sitting out front with a bowl of candy to watch the kids in their costumes, but none ever came by the house. It’s easy to see where they went—but we don’t live on that street.
By the third or fourth year of devouring all the candy ourselves, I now only buy our favorites. Goetze caramels with a cream center for my husband and dark chocolate for me. Neither of us has any trouble eating entire bags of candy … sometimes multiple bags. You would think I would have learned my lesson and stopped buying so much. What has actually happened is that Halloween has become my excuse to start a five-month candy binge. Halloween rolls into Thanksgiving, then Christmas, then New Year’s Eve, and ends with a giant red box of chocolate hearts for Valentine’s Day.
In my defense, I have reduced my sugar intake somewhat by eliminating baked goods. I used to bake specialty cookies, pies, and cakes for every occasion! Without the kids at home to eat them, and after literally making myself sick by eating an entire pie by myself, I’ve stopped baking.
So, here I stand in the candy aisle, debating with myself. Do I end the pattern and skip the candy binge this year?
Or do I succumb to marketing pressure and immediate gratification and continue my role as a candy monster?
