On the 29th, I went to Fred Meyer, our local superstore, to buy cat food and cat litter and some of those freezer pack things that you can put in a cooler. There were mega-displays of candy, of course, and I'd been thinking about my last favorite binge food, Milky Way bars that just have chocolate and caramel. I'm glad they didn't invent those until after I gave up sugar because they're exactly what I want.
So I decided to buy some, but only that. I looked and looked. No Halloween bags of that particular candy, so I went over to the regular candy aisle and they were on sale but there were only two bars left, small bars. (HP clearly looking out for me.) So I bought them. I didn't agonize over it, I didn't feel guilty, I just wanted them and wanted to eat them. I had a good lunch, waited until snack time and ate them both. They were good, though the first one was a lot better than the second. But they weren't fabulous. They weren't what I had been dreaming about. (Like remembering some old boyfriend as great when he was actually a jerk.)
I had sugar overload for a couple of hours and I just felt done with them. But the lure, the promise, the memory, ah, that's hard to handle some of the time.