The devil we DO know!

Okay, I'm officially sorry that I don't have any kind of costume for tomorrow. I suppose I could roll with Brian's scrubs and a stethoscope and go as a doctor, but I've done that before. I wish I had my awesome poodle skirt ensemble, but that's at Mom's house. I should check under my bed, I may have a costume or two in storage under there (Belle or an astronaut?). And then, the big question, do we dress for the holiday all day tomorrow?
But you know what the big messed-up thing is for me right now? I am so over candy. I haven't eaten even a fraction of what I normally do, and I'm sick of eating it. I can have, like, one of the fun-size 3 Musketeers bars (which isn't even a real portion of candy) and call it quits on sugar for the rest of the day. It actually makes me kinda nauseous. This is not at all like me. I used to be able to eat at least a quarter of a bag of candy in one sitting. This year, thinking of it makes me physically ill! Dare I say that my body has learned the portion control that my head is refusing exists? Ack! Thank goodness there are no Twix bars in my give-away basket. To part with them because I couldn't eat more than one of them at a time would be the darkest depths of sorrow.