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I’ve been avoiding writing about halloween for a while. I have the bare beginnings of a draft sitting in my draft pile that’s been there for weeks. I’d been dreading even thinking about the holiday, because it’s so utterly saturated in sugar.

Last year (and the year before, and probably the year before that (etc etc etc), I adored halloween. I looked forward to the mass of “fun size” candy, so many more varieties than there usually were. And candy corn! I could buy a tub of candy corn and eat the whole thing! Seriously, I would stop by Bartell’s every goddamn morning and buy a big bag of candy, and by the time I left work it would be entirely gone. That’s a lot of candy. That’s a scary amount of candy. Appropriate, no?

And so, I was worried about halloween this year. Every time I’d go to the grocery store, there they would be, staring me in the face. Bag after bag of candy. My favorite kinds. Kit Kats. Reeses Sticks. Dove Bites. 100 Grand. Twix. Old friends, lying there on the shelves, whispering “buy me! you know you want to…”

But I didn’t. Every time I walked past, I really wanted to. I wanted to buy two or three bags and take them home and hide them and eat and eat and eat. But I didn’t.

Sean asked me periodically, “what’s your plan for halloween?” I didn’t have an answer. I always replied that I was thinking about it. Really, I wasn’t. I was trying very hard to pretend that halloween didn’t exist. Well, the day before halloween rolled around, and I had to face the facts — we needed candy to hand out to the trick-or-treaters. I knew that we would be getting lots of them; our neighborhood is full of kids. So, I did the only reasonable thing that I could think of. I bought candy that I didn’t like to hand out. The plan was Snickers (I don’t like nuts in my chocolate), but the store didn’t have any, so I got Nutrageous bars instead. And then Jujyfruits, or whatever the hell they’re called. God, I hate those things. I didn’t stoop quite so low as to buy a bag of Necco wafers, however. I still have some pride. And… it worked. The candy was in the house for over 24 hours, and I didn’t have any of it.


Saturday, I went to that women’s health day at Swedish, which I wrote about previously. They fed us lovely box lunches. Mine included a chocolate chip cookie. No problem. It’s just one cookie. And it was good, too.

Fast forward to late afternoon/early evening. I’m hanging out with Sonja. She pulls down the bowl o’ candy (giveaway leftovers from both our house and Sean’s mom’s house) and grabs something. I think to myself, “hey, I should have something, too…” and I eat a little fun pack of M&Ms.

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon. Sean’s little sister Robyn is having a small birthday thing. We all go over to Sean’s mom’s place for cake. I eat chocolate cake. I stand there and stare at the chocolate cake. My mind is racing. Cake. I want cake. How can I get more cake? Maybe I can come over tomorrow and Bette will let me have more cake. She won’t want to eat it all herself. She’ll just offer it to me. Maybe I could go home and make a cake. CAKE. I want to eat it. I want to eat the cake. Please let me eat the cake. There’s got to be some way I can eat lots and lots of cake.

Holy shit. That, my friends, is the voice of a serious addiction.

It’s subsided since then, but it’s still there.

As a result of this weekend, I have a couple of new sugary-food rules.

  1. No desserts without Sean.
  2. One dessert a week, tops.

It’s scary how quickly my mind flipped back into must-eat-sugar mode. It’s like I turned into a sugar zombie, single-minded in my search for sweet sweet brains. It would be so damn easy to slip back into that space. This is going to be a lifelong struggle for me, and not only does that make me feel sad, but I also kind of resent it. Life isn’t fair.

Oh well.


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I have been going to the gym for almost 4 weeks. Tomorrow is my weigh-in and training session.

I really can see progress. I have been going to Pilates twice a week, and today I was able to do a roll-up (with crappy form, but still) without grabbing my leg to give myself a boost. I wasn’t ever able to do that before. My core is getting stronger. Hell, all of me is getting stronger. I like this.

I’m still doing well with the no-sweets thing. I haven’t actually had any sweets at all in over a week, when I had some chocolate mousse the night that Sean and Sonja and I went out to dinner. This is so unlike me that it’s a bit freaky.

I got my hair cut. That always makes me feel better about myself.

Also, my kid is doing so well in child care these days. Separation anxiety is almost non-existant. I plop him down on the floor, sign in, get him tagged, hand his bottle to Molly (the child care lady), and leave. Today, there was a little girl up near the front of the room when I dropped Critter off, and he just couldn’t take his eyes off of her, smiling his fool head off. So utterly cute. Also, the Pilates classroom has windows that look in to the child care room (mirrored on the kids’ side) and today when I peeked in to see how he was doing, he was actually out in the room playing. He was banging on a little xylophone, happy as a clam. Not that clams play the xylophone.

Joining the gym was an awesome thing for both of us, I think.

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I’ve noticed a few physical changes lately.

The good:

  • I have more energy in general.
  • I feel stronger.
  • I fall asleep faster.
  • My skin is clearer.

The bad:

  • My PMDD is worse. This has been manifesting not only as straightforward depression, but also as insecurity, irritability, fragility, confusion.
  • If I wake up in the night, I have a hard time going back to sleep. This would not be a problem if the kid would sleep through the night.

The ugly:

  • Really fucking bad dreams. This is probably related to the PMDD as well. So, I get the double whammy of waking up all shaky and full of anxiety from the dream itself… and then I can’t get back to sleep. Or I don’t want to go back to sleep. Some mixture of the two.

It’ll shake itself out.

And now I have a mental image of me pulling my head off of my neck and shaking it until my brain falls out on the floor. It makes a splooshy sound.

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I figured something out yesterday.  Now, when I look at it, it seems like such a “duh” thing, that I should have figured this out a long time ago.

I’m not craving sugary junk.

I’m craving the emotions I get when I eat lots of sugary junk.

Now I just need to figure out what all of those emotions are (trivial!) and then figure out other ways to produce them (easy-peasy!). Simple. I should be done with that in a couple hours.


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Hello world!

…that’s the default title for the default first post for a new blog. I’m enough of a geek that I’m going to leave it like that. Hello world!

I created this account so that I could post things on my friend Ruby’s group blog. And then I thought to myself, “Self,” I thought, “why not set up a new blog yourself?”  So I did.

Hello world! Not that I expect anyone is actually reading this. But sometimes it’s nice to think that there’s someone out there who completely randomly stumbled upon this, and is reading this, and who thinks I’m somewhat interesting.

Anyhow. I may or may not add to this later. Depends on the mushrooms.

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