It looks like Easter has come early for me because my attempt at giving up candy for Lent is officially over. Turns out, an addict’s idea of commitment is very relative, and relatively short. But truth be told, the 22 hours I did commit to self-denial was horrible. Cold sweats, hot flashes, confusion, dizziness, paranoia, and nausea to start. Lengthy periods of time where I could think about nothing but candy–sinking my teeth into gummy worms, eating alphabet-gummy words that I don’t like (especially “moist” and “broth”), experimenting with how many gummy bears I can fit in my mouth without choking … There were just so many missed memories that took a hold of me and it really taxed my emotional and mental state. No woman needs to come into Valentine’s Day with that level of melancholy malaise, certainly not me, and it was a good thing too because someone brought cupcakes and candy to work. Nothing ruins Valentine’s Day like not being able to binge eat candy, I’ll tell you what. Not that I’ve ever really experienced that, but I’ve heard rumors.
Anyway, back to Lent. I did feel a bit like a failure, albeit a failure very happily gorging on Scooby Doo Fruit Snacks. It would have been nice if I could have at least made it to 40 something–40 minutes doesn’t have a very resolute ring to it–but the bottom line is that I’m just not good at giving things up. That extends far beyond candy but candy is the worst. If you ask a psychologist, he’ll probably give you some bullshit about my inner child needing to feel validated, but frankly, that shit just tastes good and both my inner child and inner parent know it.
To be honest, if it hadn’t have happened last night, it probably would have happened today–our holy day of candy. Much like St. Nicholas, St. Valentine has only residual meaning in this now-overly commercialized and ridiculous holiday. Then again, maybe not. According to Wikipedia (so it must be true), some of the attributes of Saint Valentine include the following: bishop with a rooster nearby; bishop being beheaded; priest bearing a sword; bishop refusing to adore an idiot. This entry also suggests St. Valentine is the patron saint of epilepsy and plague. So maybe there is more of this history in our current celebration than we would think. After all, nothing goes with love quite like the plague and without bishops refusing to adore idiots Hallmark would be out of business! Wikipedia also suggests St. Valentine is the patron saint of bee keepers. I am intrigued by this and hope to incorporate colonies of bees in future Valentine’s Day celebrations. Nothing says romance like a bee sting, but that seems about as appropriate as sending thorny shrubbery with a shelf life of two days at best.
Don’t get me wrong here, I am not bashing Valentine’s Day, that’s what the rest of the internet is for. If today were not Valentine’s Day, I would just look like normal–a slob covered in cupcake icing before the 10 a.m. staff meeting–but today I’m just getting in the spirit of things! I’m going to milk the celebratory candy consumption for as long as I can and for Lent I have decided to give up trying to give up. It’s only success from here on out.
Here’s hoping your Valentine’s Day tastes as good as mine!