I'm not a fan of the commercialisation of religious holidays, but I am a fan of chocolate. Needless to say, this Easter on my diet was torture. As mentioned in my previous post, a big part of my battle with food is the emotional aspect, so in the weeks leading up to Easter I was not only immersed in an off-limits world of chocolate, but also visually assaulted by bright coloured foils that evoked many a happy memory. As a child I always looked forward to getting up on Easter morning, grabbing my little basket and little brother and heading out to the yard where The Easter Bunny had strategically hidden the spoils under upturned toys and buckets. This was of course followed by an hour or so of careful unwrapping and the foregoing of breakfast in order to savour the tiny morsels of cheap chocolate, made oh-so-much-better by the fact that they were Easter Eggs.
In an attempt to attack the nostalgia, I ventured to the Reject Shop (classy) during my lunchbreak a few days before Easter, loaded up a basket with offending eggs and planned a hunt for my partner and my housemate. I had figured that the hunt might help curb my cravings for the actual chocolate, as it would allow me to enjoy the emotional aspect of Easter without the eating. As I went through the check-out, I couldn't help but notice a shiny display of cloned bunnies with foily little faces, mocking me in my struggle to maintain my willpower, and I thought (loudly) to myself "I'll show them!". Of course, that was easier said than done...
The day before the Easter break, I came in to work to find the most perfect, dainty chocolate in the shape of a hot cross bun perched smack in the middle of my desk. Without even thinking I exclaimed "Who put this on my desk!!!???" perhaps a little angrily, as my lovely Team Leader shyly explained that she knew I probably couldn't eat it, but didn't want to be rude by not including me in the office festivities. This was almost my undoing. For months I had exercised a willpower I never dreamt I could muster, but this little chocolate smelled so incredibly tasty and looked so immaculate in it's little paper patty-pan and I wanted to eat it. Nay, DEVOUR it. All day I could smell the warm spices mixed in with the bitter dark chocolate and I could see it out the corner of my eye, just daring me to have a taste. By the end of the day I had decided that I would either take it home and let it melt in the sun and get ants on it so that no one else could have it either, or give it away. I gave it away and I was sad. Sad over chocolate. And it wasn't even foily! It was because it was Easter chocolate that I wanted it so badly. See the pattern?
On the Saturday of the Easter break I arranged the eggs I'd purchased for my partner in various locations around the yard and hustled him out of bed before they had a chance to melt. He reluctantly got up, but was kind enough to humour me by enthusiastically searching for the eggs and gave me a big smile when they'd all been found. It was fun, but I was jealous! So far my theory had failed and I was starting to sulk. I wanted Easter Eggs!!! It was at that point that I just had to have one. Just one. I announced to my partner that I was going to have one and instantly felt guilty and judged, even though he didn't object or ask me "Are you sure?". Despite the dirty feeling, I carefully peeled the foil off of a tiny egg and popped it in my mouth. And it was good. So good. As I rolled it around in my mouth and let it melt over my tongue, I thought to myself "Well, that's that!" But that wasn't the end of it.
I managed not to eat any more chocolate that weekend and enjoyed hiding the remainder of the eggs for my housemate to find, but in the weeks that have followed I've relented on more than one occasion and have had a sneaky bit here and there. I can't help but feel as though that one little Easter Egg derailed me completely! Had I not given in to temptation, perhaps I may have stayed stronger in my resolve.
This is all your fault, Jesus.
In an attempt to attack the nostalgia, I ventured to the Reject Shop (classy) during my lunchbreak a few days before Easter, loaded up a basket with offending eggs and planned a hunt for my partner and my housemate. I had figured that the hunt might help curb my cravings for the actual chocolate, as it would allow me to enjoy the emotional aspect of Easter without the eating. As I went through the check-out, I couldn't help but notice a shiny display of cloned bunnies with foily little faces, mocking me in my struggle to maintain my willpower, and I thought (loudly) to myself "I'll show them!". Of course, that was easier said than done...
The day before the Easter break, I came in to work to find the most perfect, dainty chocolate in the shape of a hot cross bun perched smack in the middle of my desk. Without even thinking I exclaimed "Who put this on my desk!!!???" perhaps a little angrily, as my lovely Team Leader shyly explained that she knew I probably couldn't eat it, but didn't want to be rude by not including me in the office festivities. This was almost my undoing. For months I had exercised a willpower I never dreamt I could muster, but this little chocolate smelled so incredibly tasty and looked so immaculate in it's little paper patty-pan and I wanted to eat it. Nay, DEVOUR it. All day I could smell the warm spices mixed in with the bitter dark chocolate and I could see it out the corner of my eye, just daring me to have a taste. By the end of the day I had decided that I would either take it home and let it melt in the sun and get ants on it so that no one else could have it either, or give it away. I gave it away and I was sad. Sad over chocolate. And it wasn't even foily! It was because it was Easter chocolate that I wanted it so badly. See the pattern?
On the Saturday of the Easter break I arranged the eggs I'd purchased for my partner in various locations around the yard and hustled him out of bed before they had a chance to melt. He reluctantly got up, but was kind enough to humour me by enthusiastically searching for the eggs and gave me a big smile when they'd all been found. It was fun, but I was jealous! So far my theory had failed and I was starting to sulk. I wanted Easter Eggs!!! It was at that point that I just had to have one. Just one. I announced to my partner that I was going to have one and instantly felt guilty and judged, even though he didn't object or ask me "Are you sure?". Despite the dirty feeling, I carefully peeled the foil off of a tiny egg and popped it in my mouth. And it was good. So good. As I rolled it around in my mouth and let it melt over my tongue, I thought to myself "Well, that's that!" But that wasn't the end of it.
I managed not to eat any more chocolate that weekend and enjoyed hiding the remainder of the eggs for my housemate to find, but in the weeks that have followed I've relented on more than one occasion and have had a sneaky bit here and there. I can't help but feel as though that one little Easter Egg derailed me completely! Had I not given in to temptation, perhaps I may have stayed stronger in my resolve.
This is all your fault, Jesus.
(So THAT's what happened...)
