A reader sent me a tip recently. She said, when she is ‘eating healthy’ she allows herself to have a spoonful of chocolate syrup each day as a treat. It staves off that chocolate monster without breaking your diet.
This sounded like a great idea to me. I asked her if I could use a serving spoon, though I’m positive a soup ladle or shovel would be even better.
Then I started thinking about those days when my youngest child really ages me. I can see me drinking straight from the bottle. In fact, knowing me, I’d get a paper sack to hide the bottle and carry it with me at all times.
When people do this with wine, they’re called winos. Does this make me a choco?
“Hello, my name is Lisa and I am a chocoholic.”
It’s true. When my most special child starts acting up, I need a hit-just a piece of dark, dark chocolate. It goes right to the brain. It restores calm. The trouble is, eating chocolate adds calories to my daily diet, and with this kiddo I’ll weigh three hundred pounds before he leaves home.
So I tried weaning myself off by hugging my cats whenever I am stressed instead of popping chocolate in my mouth. My poor cats’ eyes are all bugging out now and they flee whenever they hear the ‘special one’ screaming. They know I’ll be coming around for a squeeze and soon their eyes will be bulging again.
So now I’m working on just petting the poor creatures. They could deal with that just fine at first…until they stared to develop bald spots. Poor things. They all look like they’ve been given reverse Mohawks.
They must have placed an urgent call because now there’s this wonderful group stepping in to give me some respite care. They take my little headache makers out for the day and I get to relax and live a normal life for a few hours.
When they interviewed me for these services it took little persuasion to convince me I needed them. I told them that I was fine turning my kids over to someone else so I could catch a break…because I am now at the point where I will gladly gnaw off my own leg to break free and I truly understand why some animals eat their young.
I’m tired of being held hostage in my own home. Bring on the babysitters! Momma is ready to fly the coop like lazy Mayzie who left poor Horton alone with her egg. I used to think she was a cruel self-centered mother bird. But now, I really understand.
And I’ll bet she had a bottle of chocolate syrup stashed in her purse, too.
