thoughts while eating a fun-size snickers bar

I really like Halloween.

My reasons are threefold: first, I rejoice in the fact that there is a holiday centered entirely around candy and dressing up (two of the best things in the world), second, I really love candy, and third, I also really, really love candy.

While it is perhaps slightly less socially acceptable for me to eat candy for breakfast, lunch and dinner now than, say, when I was nine, my love for Halloween hasn 't faded a bit. The only thing that makes me kind of sad is that I will never again be as cute in a Halloween costume as when I was a kid.

My time has passed, you know? I had my glory days, when all I had to do was put on a tutu or a crown or my mom's high heel shoes and everyone was like "Awwwww....". Now I'm just another washed up thirty year old wearing a Cinderella crown while I chase some Swedish Fish with Yoohoo. And people still go "Awwww...", only now I get the feeling it's for a different reason.

Except for this year, I didn't dress up because I was sick and Paul wouldn't let me go to any Halloween parties because he didn't want me infecting any kids. Whatever. Honestly, I think he's a little embarrassed to be seen with me on Halloween and he saw my sickness as a blessing from God. Potato, po-tahto.

Well, that's life, you know? You buy some cough medicine, and hang up your Halloween costume and you eat like a pound of candy and you move on, right? If I could go back, (not that I would, okay?) I would totally go back to fifth grade when I dressed up as half of a pair of dice and I wore my black leotard and black tights and I had this box that I painted white and stuck black dots all over it and I won best costume and got to sit in the special chair shaped like a huge hand all day.

But that was then, and this is now.

And I'll always have the fifth grade. And candy.

Let's not forget about candy.