I love chocolate. I eat it every day and often at every meal. It’s a staple in my diet. It makes me happy.
I’m an addict, I know. When I was a teenager, I ate seven chocolate bars in one sitting. In the middle of the night, I hurled chocolate chunks over the side of the top bunk. My sister, the unfortunate occupant of the bottom bunk, vacated the room after being hit by the splatter. When my children and I go out for ice cream sundaes and they leave blobs of hot fudge at the bottom of their bowls, I wonder if they’re mine, while I clean up after them.
When my stash at home is gone, when I’ve sucked up every drip of syrup, every stray shaving, every marvelous morsel of my obsession, I get the shakes. I fumble through the kitchen, frantically searching the cupboards for my last resort, that half eaten bag of chocolate chips. If I’m being honest, this is the reason I buy chocolate chips. I have good intentions and I love a homemade chocolate chip cookie or ten, but the chips and the dough seldom meet at my place.
I’ve tried to give up chocolate. I have this notion that if I stop buying it, if I just stop gorging on chocolate, I could be a slightly older version of Angelina Jolie, excluding the whopping pucker. Reality has never been my specialty. I even threw a quarter of a bag of chocolate chips away once, kind of like the alcoholic pouring the last of the devil down the drain. A half an hour later, I retrieved it. Shameful!
A friend suggested I get a job at a chocolate shop, thinking that if I handle chocolate all day I might be cured. It’s hard for me to know how long I would last in that situation before letting the squealing pig out of the barn. I see the manager finding me on day two with my fat pants on, wallowing on the stock room floor in a bed of wrappers with product smeared all over my beaming face. Not good for the resume.
I have a friend who is allergic to chocolate, but loves chocolate. It causes her nose to bleed and she still eats it while her nose is bleeding! Take a moment to picture that. I admire that kind of commitment!
I think I’m ready to make a commitment of my own. I’ve finally accepted the fact that I was never meant to have a chocolate free body. I open my arms, and unbutton my pants, to chocolate of every kind in an act of total surrender. I’m officially giving up on giving up chocolate.