How a Former Fat Girl handles Halloween

I’ve always had a thing for red heads. Percy is no exception. I don’t know quite what it is about him: his happy face, his big smile. I’m just so comfortable with him, knowing how sweet he is on the inside. At the same time, though, I have my troubles with Percy. If I spend too much time with him I feel horrifically guilty, and this just makes me go running right back to him. It’s as if I just can’t get enough of him sometimes, even though I know how very bad for me he is.

Now before you start sewing a scarlet “A” on my chest and calling my husband, Wil, and saying what an evil person I am, let me explain. This is Percy:




Percy entered our lives 2 years ago on Halloween. My daughter ate about 2 pieces of the candy she collected, and over the next week or so I polished off the rest. Over the next two years, Percy has been refilled with all sorts of stuff. I’ve filled him with my favorites when I’ve been down, stressed, or upset and needing to do something “good” for myself. I even filled him with all that lousy candy nobody likes such as Mary Janes and Bit ‘O Honeys in an attempt to stay away from him. All that happened there is that I became a big fan of Mary Janes and Bit ‘O Honeys.

Percy used to live on my kitchen counter, where he mocked me daily. I was almost amazed by his power, as his candy seemed to literally jump across the kitchen and into my hands. One day while working with Peter I confessed to my affair with Percy, and the incredible grip this plastic pumpkin had on me. I waited for Peter to tell me that he’s real sorry, but he can’t work with lunatics anymore. Instead, he asked one question: “Does Percy have to live right on your kitchen counter?” Now there was a thought.

That night I turned to Wil and asked him to hide Percy. The next morning I felt an odd sense of relief walking into the kitchen, knowing that I wouldn’t run into him. And this feeling of calm lasted for a few days. Then I had a particularly stressful day at work. That night after the kids were in bed, I went into the kitchen and started doing the math. I’m not quite 5’0”. Wil is 6’4” (and yes, we look odd together, but it works for us, so let’s get back to the story). I figured that he had to hide Percy somewhere high up. About 5 minutes later, Wil walked into the kitchen and found me dangling from a high cabinet, with nothing but my big toe on the counter, and a Snickers hanging out of my mouth.

Like any good affair, Percy and I have had our ups and downs. I’ve gone weeks without thinking about him, and weeks without thinking about anything other than him. But, Peter has taught me some good tricks to deal with Percy: eat something healthier instead of candy, drink a cup of tea when I think I want something from Percy, figure out WHY I suddenly want to run into his arms (uh, if he had any). That last one is the best. When I realize that the real problem is that I’m stressed or upset, I already know that eating candy from Percy isn’t going to solve whatever is bothering me and can often leave Percy up on his shelf.

The other day, something important happened. Wil took the kids to Target (and no, I didn’t spend the morning soaking in a hot tub and reading a Danielle Steele novel. I ran a 5 mile race in Manhattan and did quite well, thank you very much), and came home with our Halloween candy. I unpacked the bags with complete trepidation. I looked at the candy; he’d bought all my favorites, which really means that he just bought candy since at this point they are now all my favorites. I waited for my hands to rip open the bag, scarf down some Rolos and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and then feel that intense guilt that usually happens right after. But instead, I felt nothing. No desire for candy, no feeling of deprivation. Instead, I took the bags of candy and put them away for our Trick or Treaters next weekend. As I said, I’ve always had a thing for redheads; I guess I’ve finally just lost my desire for self-sabotage.