Concession Confessions

I cheated. Big time. I'm hanging my head in shame as I write this (which, by the way, makes it a little tough to see exactly what I'm writing). I had sworn off candy. In my "Confection Confessions" post, I had admitted to some "minor" cheating incidents. Last night, though, I did some serious candy munching. How ironic that as our nation celebrated its Independence Day, I was busy declaring my dependence on candy.

It happened at a movie theater. Since it rained here (for the first time in a couple of weeks--how about that for luck!), hubby and I were unable to take our sons swimming--the July 4th activity we had planned long ago--and instead had to settle for a different entertainment option. A movie sounded like a fun way to spend a few hours indoors. We even gave the boys the privilege of choosing the flick, and lo and behold: they picked "Rebound."

Maybe I should have anticipated when we entered the cinema, that I was at risk of falling off the candy-abstinence wagon. Our chosen movie was, after all, a Martin Lawrence film, and I've always found him a bit, well, annoying. But I quickly dismissed any doubts: Hey, we're basically going to be watching yet another take on the 30-year-old Bad News Bears story, so this movie should be pretty harmless. At least my sons will enjoy it, right?

We paid for our tickets without incident...I mentally shrugged when hubby plunked down twenty-four bucks for the four of us to see a film that would be, most likely, mediocre at best. What the heck, right? We're doing this for our kids!

But by the time we arrived at the concession counter, my candy cravings had begun. I tried to fix my vision on the popcorn machine, then on the soda fountain, but ultimately my eyes drifted downward, and I stole a quick glance at the candy display under the glass counter. The glance became a steady gaze and then a lecherous stare. My drooling reflex kicked in, and I had to take a big gulp to prevent the saliva from pouring out of my mouth. I was like a horny guy in a giant brothel full of gorgeous women. Everything looked delicious, even the candy that I normally wouldn't consider eating, like Raisinettes (sorry, raisin fans--I think those shriveled, chewy little things are disgusting, and Raisinettes only marginally qualify as "candy" in my book, strictly by virtue of their chocolate coating).

Hubby ordered us a large bucket of popcorn and two large beverages, and then he asked the three of us, "Do you want any candy?" Do we want any candy? I bit my lip, took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then another deep breath, and then...I heard my older son, age 7, request a box of Reese's Pieces. Hubby agreed, placed the order, then added his own request, for a package of Twizzlers. It was settled. We would be getting candy. I would have to just deal with it, somehow.

How did I deal with it? I ate candy!

I won't try to deflect responsibility for my cheating. I can't blame my son and husband for buying the candy. After all, just because an alcoholic enters a bar doesn't mean he/she has the right to tell every other patron not to drink. When we found our seats and got settled in, just as the commercials/previews started rolling, I was still determined not to eat any candy, despite the fact that I was sitting between my Reese's Pieces son and my Twizzlers husband. As the scenes from upcoming movies flashed before my eyes, I silently vowed to focus my appetite on the popcorn and avoid the other goodies we had schlepped from the concession stand. And for a few minutes, I did eat only the popcorn (actually, it was more like I inhaled it). By the time Martin Lawrence appeared onscreen, though, I had broken my vow. I snagged half the box of Reese's Pieces and about half of the Twizzlers. I gobbled that sugar as if I hadn't had a meal in weeks (when in reality, I had just devoured most of a large bucket of popcorn). To tell you the truth, I ate that candy so quickly that I barely even tasted any of it. And when I was done, I didn't feel content. I felt lousy. Along with a sudden spike in my blood sugar level, I was afflicted with a stinging, stabbing pang of guilt.

Yes, I blew it. But every fallen addict deserves a new chance to become clean and sober. So here I go. My journey toward a candy-abstinent life begins anew, today.