It is upon us, fellow Blobs. Halloween.
The haunting holiday that’s been derailing diets and undermining self-confidence my entire life, it seems. It started when I was young and, even though my mom rationed by pillow case of candy to last
at least until the advent calendar chocolate windows could be perforated, it didn’t take a rocket scientist (Or even anyone over age eight) to realize that the Warden couldn’t ration candy that never made it into the bag.
The anxiety and self-doubt of consuming started early, too. How many times did I brainstorm some show-stopping costume idea only to be foiled on my way out the door by Mom’s insistence on either a turtleneck under or a cardigan over my ballet dancer/genie/hula girl fabulosity? Ugh – nobody else’s mom made them wear a turtle neck! And I’d spend all night pushing up the sleeves and tugging at the stupid-looking neck-warmer.
Even now the power of Halloween to unseat my calorie-counting confidence grows. But it’s no longer as much about avoiding a candy binge or at all about donning a cardigan. Now it’s about having just enough pumpkin-tinis to stop caring about the fact that my costume could make Kit Deluca blush.
As terrifying as Halloween can be in its own right, let us not forget for one second that at its fiercest, Halloween is really more of a gateway holiday. It is the harbinger of the HOLIDAY SEASON. You know what I’m talking about here. After candy-rimmed cocktails comes pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, and salty toasted pumpkin seeds, right before you find yourself scraping a spoonful of melted marshmallows off the top of the candied yams. Soon enough pumpkin spice lattes will give way to peppermint mochas, and any cold night without a toddy will feel downright un-festive.
Stay strong, Blobs. (Consult your inner Scarlett: “I won’t think about that now.“) For this weekend, at least, I am going to revel in the glory of the hard work I’ve been cranking out with my diet and exercise. (Ok, so maybe you’re right is IS just the exercise, but still!) I’m going to enjoy this weekend with abandon and not agonize over whether my hemline would look better at a more modest 10″ above the knee.