My Relationship with Chocolate

Easter was four days ago. I've now eaten at least five 1 lb chocolate rabbits. I say at least because I didn't count. I've eaten and eaten chocolate like I was on a mission. I hate chocolate for what it has done to me...yet my mouth waters at the thought of it. I'm addicted.

Yesterday, as I pounded through another rabbit, my oldest Diodato looked at me and said: "Mom, stop eating the chocolate because tomorrow you are going to cry that you go to the gym for nothing, because you never lose weight anyhow. Look at yourself!" Aha!

He was right. I still finished more chocolate, because now I felt depressed, and defiant. When the sugar rush set in, and I couldn't eat anymore, I looked over the left over wrapper and thought to myself 'I love chocolate, but look what it has done to me...it doesn't love me back."

Then I felt sorry for myself.

• I can't wear my wedding rings because I'm fat.
• My boys have a fat mother.
• I have no swag because I'm fat.
• I'm always the girl with the pretty face because I'm fat.
• I can't wear nice clothes because I'm fat.
• I can't run the marathon I've dreamed of running because I'm fat.
• I'm fat, I'm fat, because I'm fat.

Chocolate made me fat and still I nourish it with every bite.

Really, it's the story of my life. I give everything I have...even to those who have wronged me.
Chocolate. I love it. My relationship with chocolate began at a very young age. Alone, most of the time growing-up, chocolate was my friend, it comforted me. It made me happy. It made me feel warm and loved.


I was always the girl with chocolate to share. Most of my friends hung around with me because I was the girl with the junk food. I didn't know better. Hey, if you didn't teach your kids about nutrition, what would they eat? Candy, chocolate, soda etc...was always at my disposal. Nobody to tell me enough was enough. Only my body when I would eat so much that it would make me sick.

My most vivid memory of my chocolate obsession was when my paternal grand-mother passed, I was 12 years old. I baked a chocolate cake for the after funeral luncheon. However, I ate it all by myself instead. Then I recall, my first break-up with Alan B., a boy I had fallen head over heels in love with in Grade 11, and my first real boyfriend. He was so handsome (and still is), and so kind. The break-up shook me, I felt abandoned. Chocolate comforted me...and my weight began to pile back on. In 2004, when my marital problems came to surface, I tried to fight it with Nutella, but it wasn't enough and chocolate once again won me over.

So it is, my relationship with chocolate helped me through some rough times. It created some even worse moments for me, because being overweight is hell.

I have now decided to give up my relationship with chocolate. I'm sick of looking at myself, and must realize that eating chocolate makes me feel worse, not better. I am so worth the two second moment of comfort it brings to me...so much more worth it!

I am breaking-up with chocolate!!!!