“To be forbod the sweets that seem so good, for fear of harms that preach in our behoof.” ~William Shakespeare (A Lover’s Complaint)

It’s been over four months now since I last had any chocolate.  I can’t ever remember that happening in my life, ever.  Even when I was in the middle-of-nowhere Africa in the Peace Corps, I could find chocolate cookies or make a chocolate cake in my dutch oven or I’d get chocolate chip energy bars in my care packages from home every so often.  I’ve done sugar fasts for a month at a time when chocolate was off the menu, but after the month was up, I could indulge again.  And no, I haven’t developed an allergy to chocolate – I’ve voluntarily eliminated it from my diet because it’s pretty much at the top of the acidic foods list and therefore a major red flag for my no-acid regime that I’ve been instructed to follow by my doctor .

I’m pretty cranky about it.

Like most rational people in the world, I love chocolate.  One of my nephews told me once that he doesn’t like chocolate and I looked at him like he was an alien from another planet.  Not like chocolate?  How is that even humanly possible?  I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the chocolate concoctions that I miss the most, even though it’s a form of self-torture:

  • My mom’s hot fudge brownie cake (a gooey warm pile of chocolate indulgence);
  • Plain M&Ms mixed with white cheddar Smartfood popcorn (sweet & salty perfection that got me through every college all-nighter study session);
  • A steaming hot mug of creamy hot chocolate with marshmallows (comfort in a cup);
  • Warm chocolate chunk cookies right out of the oven;
  • Hershey’s Dark Chocolate Miniatures (cold & crisp out of the refrigerator);
  • Dove salted caramel dark chocolate squares (these should be illegal);
  • Dove chocolate ice cream bars (yes there’s a Dove pattern here);
  • Pain au chocolate (the best French invention ever, a croissant with chocolate inside).
Sweet samples from my Chocolate Tour of London last summer. (*sob*)

Sweet samples from my Chocolate Tour of London last summer. (*sob*)

I can’t bear to think of any more examples.  The other day I had to buy several pounds (yes pounds) worth of chocolate for a work event that I was hosting: brownie bites, Snickers, M&Ms (yes students will attend any event with free chocolate, and no I don’t feel bad about bribing them with sugar, they can eat healthy once they graduate)…the smell alone emanating from my bag as I carried it to the event was enough to elicit a distinct Pavlovian response from my salivary glands.  I stared at the students as they ate their chocolate in innocent bliss, feeling incredibly envious (and hating them just a little bit).

Sweet elixir.

Sweet elixir.

I know it’s healthier for me to not eat chocolate, I know that in my mind…and I know I’m lucky that this is a voluntary choice and not something more serious that is literally forcing me to not eat it…but my subconscious that dreams of swimming in a chocolate river is telling me that this substance brings me joy in some form or fashion and that I really, really miss it.  Almost as much as I miss cheese.  And peanut butter.  And chocolate WITH peanut butter, I forgot to put that on the list, that’s a good one.  (And don’t get me started on cheese…)

Someone last week told me “I’m sure it would be fine if you just had one little piece of chocolate once a week or every other week.”  What they don’t know is that I’m actually afraid now of trying that – I’m pretty sure that one piece would unlock the fudge flood gates and I’d then be drowning in an ocean of Oreos.  Hey, that’s going to make for a pretty good dream tonight!

À la prochaine!

Ant Kristi

 

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