Candy barred? That’s a Milk Dud of an idea
By Beth Teitell
Boston Herald Columnist
Wednesday, November 1, 2006

Don’t take this the wrong way, people, but those 10 bags of bite-size Snickers that remain unopened because only three trick-or-treaters came to your door? Not my problem. That bulk-bin of Milky Ways that remains nearly full, despite your Halloween blowout? Keep it to yourself.
        Seriously.
        If the day after Thanksgiving is dubbed “Black Friday,” and the first day back to work after the weekend is “Cyber Monday,” then today is - no, not “All Saints Day” - “All Grazers Day.” A day when the ambient sounds are the crinkling of candy wrappers, the loosening of belts and the vowing of “just one more.”
        Nov. 1 marks the unofficial kickoff to Undermining Season, that time of year when homemade treats start showing up at the office, and wherever you go calorie-laden delicacies are forced upon you. (Well, forced-ish. I always take seconds in the name of politeness.)
        You know those post-Thanksgiving predictions economists make about fourth-quarter earnings, based on the famous “same-store sales” statistics? Nutritionists should issue similar weight-gain forecasts based on today’s national average caloric consumption. That way we’d know the damage as we head into “the holidays.” If experts predict I’ll pack on 7 pounds before Jan. 1, and I’ve only put on 5, I’ve got to ramp up consumption.
        Yesterday, as I was wolfing down chocolate cookies from Trader Joe’s (in order to limber up for last night’s festivities), a colleague pointed out that there’s candy in the vending machine and in stores year-round. So, to borrow from the Passover seder, “Why is this night different from all other nights?”
        I’ll tell you why: as every “dieter” knows, there’s a world of difference between taking the proactive step to buy something and stopping by the post-Halloween candy dish sitting on a co-worker’s desk, chatting while you devour one - or 10 - Charleston Chews. Scraping together the right change for the vending machine, or finding an acceptably smooth dollar bill is a premeditated act - Gluttony 1 - whereas succumbing to a mini-Snickers calling to you from your colleague’s stash is a diet crime of passion. Involuntary Binging, perhaps. (Sadly, the pound police in my scale don’t seem to recognize this distinction.)
        So, looking forward to Nov. 1, 2007 (since this year’s already a lost cause), what are our options? We could create candy-free zones within the workplace. Or, better yet, allow weight-conscious workers to take the day off on dietary grounds. That would not only honor their “beliefs” but - here’s the beauty part - leave more candy for the rest of us.