I'm so proud of myself. And my pride has nothing to do with my child's latest new new thing. Instead, it's all about me and my own greatness.
What has Tamara done, you ask? What has got MamaBear puffing out her lactating chest and shaking all that God and pregnancy gave her?
Why, this self-love-athon is all about the fact that I haven't eaten any Halloween candy yet. (These days, I'm seeking wins wherever I can find 'em.)
Usually by this time of year, I've already ODed twice on Tootsie Rolls. Come Halloween week, I am seeking a path to recovery along a trail of Snickers wrappers. If you ask me what I had eaten on a typical October day, my snack list would remind you of The Very Hungry Caterpillar (1 pack of jelly beans, 2 Peppermint Patties, 3 Dove squares, 4 Hershey Kisses...).
My secret this year has nothing to do with willpower. Instead, I banned all candy from the house until Friday afternoon. When I walk by the candy wall at Loblaws, I turn away and sniff "You are dead to me".
Now, I could be setting myself up for a mother of nasty relapse. Good thing I have a friend coming over on Friday evening to pull me from my cheap chocolate coma.
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