Easter chocolate…yes, I ate it all

Posted on April 19th, 2012

Image Copyright Danilo Rizzuti

You’ll have to excuse my blog. You see, I am writing it in a foggy haze of chocolate overdose. Yes, I indulged just a bit at Easter. And yes, I know Easter was like two weeks ago. People, I ate a serious amount of chocolate.

I couldn’t help it. Look, it’s not like I didn’t try to keep away from the chocolate. The entire week before Easter, I lived with about twenty pounds of the darned stuff hidden in the back of the closet in the spare room (yes, I still get Junior an Easter basket). And every single day for seven ENTIRE days I walked past that room.

I could smell that chocolate. I could taste its gooey goodness. I wanted that chocolate. I wanted it bad. But every time I tried to open the door of that room, rip the chocolate from its hiding place and stuff it all into my mouth, I resisted.

Of course, resistance is futile. And that’s why I am sitting here in a chocolate stupor.

Oh I waited until Easter Sunday. For seven long days I denied myself the great mountain of chocolate that lay waiting and hidden. And for seven long nights, I dreamed of that chocolate.

I couldn’t escape. I mean, I’d leave and run errands and there they would be. All those neat rows of hollow chocolate bunnies standing on the shelves. Waiting. Waiting for me to take them all home, rip off their foil and devour them.

I’m telling you, for chocoholics like me, Easter is the very worst time of year. It didn’t matter where I went. Heck, I was at the gas station, filling up with gas and there were chocolate eggs at the cash register. Thank goodness gas costs so much—I didn’t have enough money on me to buy an egg.

But at the grocery store there was chocolate. At the pharmacy there was chocolate. I was beginning to hallucinate. Driving down the road, the street sign didn’t say “Monterey Street,” it said “Chocolate Avenue.” I swear I saw a chocolate bunny hitchhiking on 101 heading north.

I had to do something quick. I ran through my options for staying away from chocolate. I debated taping my mouth shut—but I knew that if I were confronted with a yummy looking Dove bar I would rip the tape off. I thought briefly about super glue—but that seemed a little drastic. Not to mention the fact that it would hurt when I tried to yell at Junior or the dogs.

And then I realized what I had to do. I had to go clothes shopping.

You see, there’s nothing more depressing than shopping for clothes after you’ve just eaten a huge load of chocolate. Because chocolate isn’t like any other fattening food. The problem is, you can eat other types of fattening foods and the food takes a while to digest and actually make you fat. Not chocolate. Chocolate is eaten, swallowed and it heads directly to your butt. There’s no burning it off. Once chocolate fat gets a hold of your rear, it’s there forever.

And that’s why people like me, who both fear and desire chocolate should always go clothes shopping when the cravings hit too hard—with something new, we’re a little less willing to add fresh fat to our butts. But even an afternoon shopping couldn’t make the cravings stop. I was just so exhausted from the fight against chocolate that I went home and I went into the closet and what I discovered was horrifying.

Harry had taken all the chocolate out and hidden it someplace else.

What kind of man does that to his wife? What kind of man denies his wife the basic necessities of life, like chocolate? I’ll tell you what kind of man—the kind who understands my chocolate butt-fat theory, that’s what kind.

And so, thanks to my loving husband, I lasted until Easter Sunday. I didn’t let one tiny bite of chocolate cross my lips. But that afternoon, after a delicious ham dinner, I found it. A tiny piece of chocolate sitting on the counter.

So I ate it. And before I knew it, I had decimated Junior’s Easter basket. The only thing left was a box of Peeps. Fortunately, Junior really likes Peeps—and also? He knows he still gets a basket just so I have a steady supply of chocolate bunny ears to eat.

As for me, I’m still fighting the chocolate fog. But when I emerge, I swear to you I won’t allow another piece of chocolate to increase my hip size.

Until next Easter, of course.

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