Ode to Chocolate

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 diminutive chocolate. I cheat myself when I chew it up swiftly 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 level velvet coat the tongue. It is also difficult to eat nothing else but good chocolate silently. I regularly purr a long ummmmmmm of feminine pleasure when enjoying such a pleasure.

Food And Dessert

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 mom 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 mom 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 house 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 pleasure 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 inexpressive 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 effect 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 favorite 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 standard other limitations, and I refuse other desserts, bread, and wine while the week. But chocolate has its place.

© Ana Tampanna

Ode to Chocolate