Chocolate and other obsessions

As I begin to write this I’m chewing the last bite of a miniature Bar One candy bar. I found it this morning in the “party favor” (aka “bag of sugar”) that my nephew left behind when he was here last weekend. Sure, I should probably have set it aside to give back to him the next time I see him, but I’m afraid that just wasn’t possible. See, I am incapable of having chocolate in the house. When it’s there, it’s all I can think about. The only way to stop thinking about the chocolate is to eat it. Don’t you see? I couldn’t clear my head enough to write this afternoon until I ate the chocolate. It was nagging me, calling me from downstairs until I ate it, and look at me now…writing at last.

I’m sure I have some sort of problem. It can’t be healthy, this obsession with chocolate. But what to do about it? There I was sitting at my computer, stressed about how to begin this week’s post, when all of a sudden an overwhelming need for chocolate came over me. The small bag of candy downstairs was all I could think about. Sure, I’m aware that I probably fixated on the chocolate to distract myself from the fact that I didn’t know what to write, but unfortunately, recognition does nothing to solve the problem.

And I’m afraid the problem is not limited to chocolate. If I’m sad…I’m certain that pizza or perhaps a little ice cream will cheer me up. Feeling homesick? Roger takes me to Nando’s or to a movie for popcorn and M&Ms. Stressed? Well, when stressed, it’s pretty much whatever I can get my hands on. Chocolate (in any form) is the food of choice, but I’ll stuff my face with pretty much anything until the stress passes…and it eventually does. That’s the problem, if emotional eating didn’t work so well, I could probably stop.

I hope I don’t sound like a total head case. In fact, I’m only brave enough to put this out there because I don’t believe I’m alone with my emotional eating issues. I mean, how many of us actually eat for the purpose of consuming the nutrients that keep us alive? No, we eat because we crave the taste. We eat because we’re bored. We eat because we’re stressed. We eat to be social. We eat as a reward. We eat for a thousand reasons other than sustaining life. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I think it's interesting.

I eat for all of the reasons listed above and I eat a hell of a lot, I admit it. “Oh, you’re such a good eater,” my mother-in-law says. It’s spoken like a complement, but was that a bit of judgment in her tone? Or is my over-sensitive self imagining it? “I like hanging out with you, Rob,” my sister-in-law says. “I never feel bad about how much I’m eating when you’re around.” Um, thanks…I think.

I am a “good eater,” a card carrying member of the clean your plate club. The obsessive exercising helps me rationalize the fact that I easily eat as much as my six-foot-four husband, but how long can I keep this up? At some point, I will have to get a grip on the emotions behind my appetite and deal with them once and for all.

Then again, perhaps - as usual - I’m overanalyzing my relationship with food. Maybe it’s not about being stressed or sad – maybe I eat a lot because I’m hungry. Maybe I have a fast metabolism. Or perhaps I just enjoy food (specifically chocolate) more than most people. Yes, that's probably it. How else do you explain my niece, a fellow chocoholic? She seems almost as obsessed by chocolate as I am, and I certainly don’t think she’s using food to ease the emotional ups and downs of her eight year old life. She simply loves chocolate. Well, me too.

Last weekend, while my mother-in-law prepared dinner (sausages and potatoes of course), Connor, the little chef, made Mulva Pudding (which isn’t pudding at all, but in this part of the world they call dessert “pudding,” as in “Granny, what’s for pudding?”). After dinner, Sally asks everyone if we’d like ice cream to go with our “pudding.” Both Dale and my eyes light up. Sally scoops out ice cream for us, giving Dale a rather large scoop (bigger than mine, I noticed). “Are you sure you can eat all that Dale?” Sally asks. Dale nods and licks her lips greedily. I dive into my dessert, only surfacing when every last morsel has been consumed. I’m practically licking the bowl when I hear Dale say, “See Granny? I finished all of it.” She then leans over to me and whispers, “And I’m still hungry.”

“I know the feeling, Sweetie,” I whisper back. “And I’m sure Granny would be happy to give us more veggies, but I’m afraid that’s all the ice cream we’re getting.”

“I know,” she sighs sadly. “But I’m not hungry for that.”

You and me both, kid. You and me both.

And on that note, I’m going to sneak downstairs for the last bit of Connor’s chocolate. After all, now that I’ve completed this week’s post, don’t I deserve a little chocolate reward?

I think so too.