Just a nibble…

Photograph: Roger Tooth

This time of the year always reminds me of when I plunged to the depths of my chocolate addiction. This little event took place about 10 or 11 years ago.

For years, I nagged Patrick to surprise me with a box of high-end Valentine confections. When he finally got the hint, I happened to be on the Atkins diet.

I hadn’t tasted sugar in months. Shock came over my face as I unwrapped my gift – of all times to hit me up with Godiva! I had no willpower. I felt like Edward Cullen, sitting next to Bella Swan in Biology class. My eyes turned black and I couldn’t contain the yearning to BITE.

I stayed firm. I calmly set the pretty box aside. I decided to wash the dishes as a way to internally debate my dilemma. To scarf or not to scarf? When you haven’t had the hard stuff in weeks and then poof! – it’s under your nose – the concept of “Gobble” takes over. “If I don’t eat them, someone else will!” mentality takes over. I contemplated my logical options while Patrick went to the other room with our kids and my mother-in-law.

I thought maybe I could handle a taste if I prepped myself first.

I knew if I ate one of those truffles, my diet would crash and burn. You know that split-second turning point when you eat junk, there is no turning back? It’s like, one minute you pop a chocolate, an hour later, you’re hiding in the grocery store parking lot, sitting alone in the car, simultaneously crying and giggling as you gnaw on a loaf of warm, fresh French bread.

That would not be me!

Regardless, the cocoa-dusted devil on my shoulder tugged at my ear.

“It’s a gift of love from your husband, silly. You are obligated. Just a nibble.”

“NO waaay!” I said with a disgusted chuckle. I grabbed the box and shoved it into the kitchen trash.

My hands trembled as I scrubbed the countertop. “He did spend a lot of money on them. Perhaps just a nibble . . . ” I rationalized. Maybe I could nip at the edge and get it out of my system and move on.

Next thing I knew, I had my hands in the trash. I ripped off the lid and stuffed a truffle in my mouth. Creamy. Dark Chocolate. Mousse. I closed my eyes and swayed from the smooth decadence gliding across my tongue. My mouth watered as I envisioned the sexy demise of the next candy. I moaned from the pleasure. French bread, here I come.

All of a sudden the voice of a child brought me back to reality.

“Mommy, why are you eating out of the garbage?” my ten-year-old son asked.

“Oh!” I laughed while wiping away the drool, embarrassed. “It’s not what it looks like, sweetie!”

Yikes. I then noticed my mother-in-law and husband had also witnessed my dirty deed.

“Were you just eating chocolate out of the trash?” my mother-in-law asked.

“No, please let me explain,” I laughed. “The top of the box was still on them and . . . ”

“Kathy!” said Patrick as he witnessed his expensive gift resting in the garbage. “Why did you throw my present away? You told me to buy them!”

Can you say BUSTED? I removed the box out of the trash, vowed to take a break from my diet for a day and we all ate the chocolates together.

I’m sad to report I did eat some French bread that night too, but at least it wasn’t in the car.

Love & light,


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Kathy Cano-Murillo

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Hi, I’m Kathy, The Crafty Chica! My specialty is creative motivation. I’m an artist, author, and speaker and this is where I share my craft tutorials, artwork, articles, books, product lines, and workshops!

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