The Reese Cup Catastrophe

~Many of you may not know that I once weighed 528 pounds. The food addiction and sugar cravings I survived, ruled my entire existence at one time. I would like to share something that may enlighten many with friends or family members dealing with these inner demons~ Alana Marie

The Reese Cup Catastrophe

The pumpkins sat carved and glowing on the front stoop, while the wind puffed and gusted relentlessly, causing the candles tucked inside, to flicker wildly. I peeked anxiously out of the front window in search of the year’s first trick or treater. The sun had not yet dipped below the autumn horizon and I peered down the street seeing no one as I snatched and swiftly unwrapped one of the chocolate Reese’s cups from the giant dish next to the front door. Tossing the wrapper on top of the mounting pile beside the bowl, I popped the bite size delicacy into my mouth and wobbled back to my easy chair, sighing as the chocolate melted on my tongue. I knew that having so much candy in the house would be bad for my already “ample” figure, but I rationalized that it would all be gone after tonight and I would start that Atkins diet in the morning.
Earlier that day, I had crammed my 400 pound bulk into my ford Focus and ventured out to the local Walmart in search of goodies for the neighborhood ghosts and goblins. Filling my cart with sugar infused treats, I piled it high with bags upon bags of Snickers bars, Milky Ways and my ultimate favorite, Reese’s peanut butter cups. Despite the small trickle of youngsters I had supplied with candy last year, I persistently prepared for a tsunami of children this October, cautioning myself with, “better to be safe than sorry.” Mesmerized, I waddled up and down the holiday candy aisle, spellbound by the shelves of delightful temptations, feeling dizzy at the notion of all the leftovers I would have to dispose of, if perchance, it happened to rain tonight. I fought the urge to tear open one of the bags in the basket and sneak a taste right there in the store while I rolled my way up to the cash register. As I loaded down the counter, I could feel the pitiful eyes of strangers leering at me as they cleared their throats and shook their heads at this portly, patron with an obvious sugar addiction. With crimson cheeks, I paid the clerk and hurried out the door and back to the safe haven of my tiny car. Tossing my booty of bags on the front passenger seat, I wasted no time in ripping the Reese’s cups open and shoving several into my salivating mouth, knowing that it would take away the sting of the stranger’s stares. Pulling out of the parking lot, I aimed the little Ford toward home, looking forward to the enchanted evening ahead.
Tonight, looking out the window once again, I winced as a deafening crack of thunder echoed through the neighborhood and a torrent of raindrops tumbled from the sky. There would be no trick or treaters tonight, I thought as I flipped off the porch light, just as the flickering pumpkins winked out. I lifted the heavy bowl and carried it into the living room, settling it into my generous lap as I clicked the TV on. I had bought all of this candy promising myself that there would be none left tomorrow, and well, I always keep my word.
Alana Marie

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