Oh, chocolate. Let me count the ways…
Admittedly the seeds for that addiction were planted long ago. It’s just that in 2011 it reared its ugly head. I started off the year nursing a four month old. Having a baby is a time ripe for not taking good care of yourself. It’s not that you don’t care, it’s just that there are so many other needs to be met! There are OTHER mouths to feed, diapers to wash, a kitchen to unbury and pajamas that you really should change after living in them three straight days in a row.
So I wasn’t taking the time to feed myself good healthy things. (The crusts from a four-year-old’s peanut butter sandwich and leftover applesauce apparently don’t count.) And I was fatigued from not getting any solid sleep. Add that to an insatiable appetite from breastfeeding and I’d find myself suddenly ravenous at multiple times a day. There I would be with zero energy and a monster stack of dirty dishes standing between me and the preparation of real food.
It’s the perfect delicious mix of sugar, fat and caffeine. Who needs to actually make a real lunch when you can just eat a king-size snickers? Or scavenge the pantry for Ghirardelli chocolate chips? You know the calories are there, but you might think, “There’s not that much caffeine in chocolate.” Well, let me tell you, a third of a pan of double fudge brownies eaten after 4pm would indicate otherwise. A person will be left awake well past two in the morning. (Hypothetically speaking, of course.)
I cannot forget to mention the boost to your levels of serotonin. Chocolate does seriously make me happy! Albeit in the most fleeting and shallow sense of the word.
Let’s sum up: sugar buzz, caffeine high and fat to make you think you’re actually full. Top it all off with a spike of “happy”. What’s not to love?
Well, there’s the sugar crash, the lack of energy and the crankiness that follows…but that didn’t stop me.
Fast forward months ahead to my daughter weaning and me finally sleeping through the night. My affinity for chocolate was still going strong. I finally decided at the tail end of the Halloween candy that I needed to cut myself off. No need to wonder why I‘m still carrying around XX pounds of, ahem, “baby” weight. I think I should just call it by its true name: “Reese’s peanut butter cups/Kit Kat” weight.
Good thing there aren’t any of either in the house or I’d go eat one right now.