Chocolate delays reality. When I am eating chocolate, everything
is on hold: anxiety, panic, frustrations, and insecurity. Chocolate
offers a profound richness, a sweetness of life, a euphoric sensation of
luxury. I love chocolate in many forms, from M&M's, to imported
Lindt balls, to dark fudge frosting in a pop-top can, to Hershey's dark
chocolate bite-sized morsels.
It is difficult to eat only a little
chocolate. I cheat myself when I chew it up quickly and swallow it
like other food. To eat chocolate correctly, one must let it melt in
the mouth with eyes closed, feeling the tasty, thick smooth velvet coat
the tongue. It is also difficult to eat really good chocolate silently.
I usually purr a long ummmmmmm of feminine satisfaction when enjoying
such a pleasure.
I have strategies to keep from eating chocolate.
I meditate after lunch, enjoying the sweetness of life without
calories, I brush my teeth after drinking my afternoon coffee, and I
give chocolate away to my mother so that it's not in the house. But it
comes back as gifts from other sources, knowing that it is loved and
cherished in my presence.
My daughter loves chocolate, too. A
hereditary trait, I guess. Sometimes my mother and my daughter and I
enjoy chocolate together, a female bonding of sensuous gratification.
We
give each other gifts of Easter Bunnies, Christmas balls, and Valentine
confections, then share our blessed bounty with each other. We hide it
from other family members, and never apologize for succumbing to such
greedy decadence. We have trained the men in our lives to buy it for us
as well by expressing our enjoyment and satisfaction as lip-smacking,
vocalized bliss. It's as if we permit our chocolate gift givers to be
voyeurs of our pleasure.
I have a girl friend who refers to
chocolate as the fourth basic food group. She eats it publicly, in
front of people, instead of holding private chocolate sessions where no
one can count bites or pieces. Self-righteous jailers they are, those
indignant souls who reprimand us. Sometimes it is us, ourselves, our
split personalities loving and hating our obsession. My sister-in-law
denies her children from chocolates' evil influence, but yields
personally to its entrapment. Chocolate calls her name, beckoning her
in a trance- like state to follow its' seductive aroma to the kitchen. I
know that aroma well, it cannot be contained in a cardboard box, a foil
wrapper, or an insulated refrigerator.
Sometimes I eat chocolate
to wake me up, or to keep on working when I want to stop and take a nap.
Much preferred to a carrot on a stick. A self-imposed bribe to keep
pushing. Of course, this bribe has negative consequences when my jeans
don't fasten.
I suppose the alligator here is the addiction. But
addiction to what? Chocolate? Or pushing to achieve? What a shame
that my time is spent in activities that don't burn calories. Striving,
planning, dreaming, persisting, setting boundaries, checking off
chores, reviewing goals, paying bills.
I refuse to give up
chocolate. I know women who have. Women committed to thin. I'm
committed to enjoying my life. I have accepted other limitations, and I
refuse other desserts, bread, and wine during the week. But chocolate
has its place.
© Ana Tampanna
Ana Tampanna, "The Alligator Queen," is author or the "The
Womanly Art of Alligator Wrestling." To learn more about her books in
addition to her speaking and coaching services, visit her site at
[http://www.alligatorcoach.com/index.html]
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