We've all had to say goodbye to something or someone that isn't working out well. I have a friend who shall forever remain nameless who goes through nannies like the rest of us go through underwear. I'm amazed there isn't a nanny network out there that doesn't have a No-way! list with her name on it. Well, my problem started young. I fall in love easily. Most people can't admit that. I can. I'm weak. Give me some of what I need and I'm yours, blinking and drooling forever. Recently, things got out of control. I began to get up at night seeking out my source. Looking for it, tearing into things I had no business being in, looking for my car keys, going to where it was. . .I had to have it right then.
Yep, I was hooked.
Spike Lee appropriately named his movie She's gotta Have It for a reason.
I had to have. . .
CANDY!
Yes, dangit. Candy.
Not a man, and not that expensive chocolate crap you other women are hooked on. I'm allergic. (I'm so thankful)
No, cheap, delicious dusty, melt in your mouth Smarties and Swedish Fish.
I would tear the candy drawer apart--hey, don't judge me. YES, I have a candy drawer.
I'd go to the car, hoping the kids had hidden the bag I'd bought. I'd go through their drawers, bypassing their diaries--who wants to read those anyway??
I searched and even used the flashlight and stood on the counter to look on top of the cabinets--that's when I had an intervention. Yes, with myself. Nobody else was home.
All I could think was what will they think when they find your dead carcass on the floor from falling off this counter? You saw a bear out the window? Get down dumb ass, and think about what you're doing! (Conversations with myself tend to get graphic)
So, I got down and went back to bed. It was 3:45 in the morning. As I sat in bed licking an apple pretending it was a Swedish fish, I thought there's no Candy Anonymous for you, so you have to kick this on your own. The problem is, I've been addicted to candy all my life. But just because you're right-handed doesn't mean you can't be left-handed, or just because you speak French doesn't mean you can't learn English, right? Anyway, I decided right then I was going to quit. The problem was, I like candy. So I had to have a ceremony. I gathered up all the candy I could find, and I would like you all to think I burned it in the oven, but I ate it, of course!
Then I didn't buy anymore. Not a single 3 pound bag.
It's been 10 days and I'm candy free. Yes, I have candy withdrawl. In my dreams male anatomy is covered with Swedish fish, and food tastes different. I miss it. The smell of candy. (sigh)
I joined the gym.
Now the delightful scent of candy has been replaced by the odor of my bones as they grind against one another when my feet are over my head in Pilates. I've started several fires.
That sweet sticky smell that goes straight to your sinuses as you pass the ab machine isn't in fact someone who's forgotten their deodorant. It's me excreting candy through my pores. I've got to go now. The ab machine is free. I think I'm going to cry.
Carmen
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2 comments:
Dang Carm. There has to be a middle ground. You can't liit your self to three Swedish Fish a day or something? Do they make sugar free fish? And I don't go through Nannies, thank you very much, They stay at least a year. That's a long time in nannydom.
Carmen,
Think about the shape and size of your butt. Each bite of any adds at least 5 to 7 dimples on your rear. A whole bag of candy...shutter!!! Soon you will have to buy girdles like our grandmothers wore then you'll be passing out in church because you can't breathe. Traumatizing small children with the view of your butt in a girdle because your skirt flew up when you passed out in church. Give up the candy and save a child.
Carla
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