Being the Easter bunny, Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy is slowly killing me.

Do you ever have one of those days where you just feel fat. Well, I'm having one of those months.  The problem is, that I can't express that to anyone but myself because Don asked me to give up saying "I'm fat" for lent. Its harder than you think.
What is really interesting is that when I would look in the hallway mirror I didn't even realize I was saying it out loud. Now he stares at me (taking his job as the lent police way too seriously), while I'm checking myself out which makes me even more self conscious so I always say "what?" get frustrated and change my outfit.
I verbally communicate most everything, Don on the other had does not. I will go out of my way to look nice and he will tell me three weeks later that he thought I looked good that night (three f'ing weeks ago).
Even when his parents were here his dad said "if you get any thinner I won't be able to see you" I think that was the nicest thing he has ever said, granted he has severe eye problems and probably couldn't see a 400 lb. woman. Still, my heart sang just a little bit.
I gain weight in my face first. That means that any profile picture I post I look like a chipmunk with nuts in my mouth...I realized it as soon as I wrote it, (get your mind out of the gutter.)
I'm an avalanche. This means that as soon as I have an inkling that I feel fluffy everything collapses around me and I eat chocolate. I figure, its no use, I'm already destined for purchasing a lazy boy and having the fire department cut me out of it.
This also is true when I work out. If I get up early, I will do well the rest of the day. Lately however, it takes all I have to get up at 6, especially when I have a Vegas baby who wakes up at 3 and 4. That means I am only able to get to the gym after work and that is not happening. I do exercise on Saturday and Sunday. I'm not a mathematician but 2 workouts cannot possibly balance out the massive consumption of dove chocolate I have been eating lately.
The reason I have been so stressed is because Easter is coming up.  I have made several trips to Target, the dollar store etc., trying to keep up the ruse that a big ass bunny hops into our house and leaves the boys baskets filled with candy and one thing they have been wanting. The Easter bunny is an equal opportunity giver too, every basket has to be equal. Plus to keep up with this ridiculous charade the dog and mommy and daddy get a basket too. Which is usually filled with toiletries.  Christmas is even worse.  All I want to do on Christmas Eve is go to bed, instead, I'm usually guarding the hallway while Don puts the presents under the tree. Presents that I purchase, he has yet to purchase any gifts for the boys in 8 years for any holiday. Seriously. In his words, "you enjoy it so much, I don't want to take that away from you."
Space is an issue too. Living in a older home, where people didn't need large closets because they must have only had 2 outfits and 1 pair of shoes, its hard to hide presents for 4 curious boys. I was a kid once too, and I fondly remember believing in Santa, the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny, but I also remember finding out they were fictional and my little world came crashing down. Just like with any tragedy, I remember exactly where I was when my mom told me and I literally sobbed. I felt lied to, which if you think about it, I was!  Don said he didn't think it was a big deal when he found out.  I was 9, that means I have about one year before the boys get wise to the idea.
Just yesterday in the car I almost just blurted it out because they were telling each other that the Easter bunny was going to bring them DSi games...which he isnt.
Plus, what is it teaching them? That what we can't afford, Santa and his elves just pull it out of their butts?
So in a very round about way, I have been stressing about it and sneaking into my closet and eating all the Easter candy. This is just on the heels of the Birthday extravaganza which is April. Five ice cream cakes in one weekend. My mom keeps Dairy Queen in business with these cakes. And I can only guess that this Easter she will have a Happy re-birthday Jesus cake.
Now I'm faced with the dilemma to either tell the boys the truth or let them discover it themselves. Either way, it will be a sign of growing up and will no doubt trickle down the family gossip mill and spoil it for all of them (except) Oscar.  All I know is if it does continue, I can only imagine what I will say to myself in the mirror when summer rolls around.