it's the great mellowcreme pumpkin, hips and thighs!

Oh, Fall. You know what I think of when people say they love this season, with it's shorter days, confusing weather patterns, and trees resplendent with vibrant colors?

Meh. Big deal. Whatever.

When this time of year rolls around, I only have one thing in mind and that is the triumphant return of mellowcreme pumpkins to the grocery store. Oh, yes, my friends. You can have your nippy temperatures, but I only want this nipply confection!

When I went to the grocery store last week to buy wholesome items like fruits and whole grain breads, these were the first things that hit me when I walked through the door. In fact, when I caught sight of them out of the corner of my eye while making my initial beeline for the berries, I immediately made that squeaky brakes noise, and then I said "beep, beep, beep" while backing my cart up to bow before the towering display of Halloween candy. It was absolutely necessary I made that wide load/watch out for large objects/things in mirror are closer than they appear safety beep because if I keep eating from the bag (OK, BAGS! SHUT IT!) I brought home, I'm going to need pilot trucks with the flashing lights trailing in front of and behind me as warning to my fellow shoppers to make a wide path for me when I eventually return to the grocery store. I'd feel bad about knocking down an unsuspecting child with my thighs.

There's a method I have to eating these treats:

1. Only purchase Brachs mellowcreme pumpkins and no other. Do not try to ply me with your generic mellowcremes for I will not be fooled. Yes, I will eat two or 18 before declaring them inferior, but I will not be fooled.


2. Hide the bag(s) from my Tool Man and my children. Every fall, my boys insist they love mellowcreme pumpkins and beg me to share with them, and though I resist mightily, I eventually cave (for they are adorable) and give them one apiece, into which they bite, make a face, and then declare them disgusting. Then I send them to their rooms and tell them not to come out until they understand what they did, which was waste two perfectly good mellowcremes that I could have eaten and also forced me to say "I told you so!" and I hate saying that.


3. Laugh sarcastically at the suggested serving size (six candies? pffft!) and proceed to dump fistfuls out into my grubby paws. Hold one aloft and alternate declarations of love with sneers of contempt. Saying "Oh, mellowcreme pumpkin, I see we meet again!" can go either way.


4. Indulge in an elaborate eating process that signals to everyone around you that you have a little bit of a problem with disordered eating. My method for consuming mellowcreme pumpkins involves first biting the tiny green tip off the top, then scraping at the green layer surrounding the former tip. Finally, bite the pumpkin in half, sometimes horizontally, but preferably vertically, and enjoy the two bites this provides. Then tell observers that if they think that ritual is odd, they should see me eat a slice of pizza. And pie. And also cake. And seriously, watch me eat a sandwich sometime. Oh, and ice cream? It's a process, too.

I'd eaten eight of these sugary orbs of fantastic bliss before 8:30 a.m., today and I can assure you that pairing them with only a small glass of water may not meet the USDA's recommendation for a healthy breakfast, but I feel like I can cut through steel using just the power of my eyes. I'm like Jared Leto in Requiem For A Dream after dancing with the devil and a pound of pure. Or Jared Leto in eyeliner with some sweet sword fighting moves. I don't know. What I do know is I've got a case of the Kenickie shakes and if I keep eating these, I'll end up looking like Jared Leto in Chapter 27 after he beefed up to play Mark David Chapman.

Besides, I need to leave room for the Reece's peanut butter pumpkins that are waiting for me at lunch.