Perils of the Season

Easter is a wonderful holiday, full of redemption and the new life of spring. There are flowers everywhere. There are family dinners, nay, feasts for the multitudes. Ham, and casseroles with cheese and cream. A few token green vegetables, like asparagus, with Hollandaise. Hot cross buns. Desserts galore. And there are chocolate bunnies, chocolate ducks, chocolate eggs, chocolate in every conceivable form.

One might think that Valentine’s Day was more of a chocolate holiday, but one would be wrong. It is absolute hell for people trying to lose weight. I think that the Hershey company must put crack in their little chocolate eggs– why are they so far superior to everything else the company makes? And why can’t I just eat one? Why must I eat the entire bag?

Today I bought another bag of these damned eggs because there are other people in my family that celebrate Easter and they are not dieting. I glanced at the nutrition information. For a serving, seven tiny eggs, it’s not too bad: 200 calories and 12 g of fat. There are 7 servings in a bag. 1400 calories and 84 g of fat. As long as the bag is sealed I can resist them. I probably will eat one or two putting them in the baskets of my husband and son.

But I have something better waiting for me.

I knew when I started this project that Easter was going to be a giant stumbling block. That it might be so devastating for me to not have an Easter bunny that I might be in danger of throwing in the towel. I have portion control down. We are taking my 96-year-old grandmother to Easter brunch and I will be okay with that. It’s the chocolate that calls me.

So I ordered my fix from Woodhouse Chocolates in St. Helena, CA. (The photograph is of one of their pieces, considerably more elaborate than what I ordered for myself.) I couldn’t decide exactly which one so I ordered a duckling and a laughing rabbit, a collection of brown butter ganache-filled robin’s eggs, a chocolate carrot and a bunch of chocolate asparagus. It all arrived beautifully packed in a little styrofoam cooler with an ice pack. (Don’t tell my husband how much it cost, he’ll have a stroke.)

I’ll share, of course. I just need that one special thing. And I am going to give myself over to it totally, a complete and utter surrender.  I will luxuriate in it. I will be at one with the chocolate, and it will be bliss.

Don’t look for me to wring my hands over this or walk extra steps or deny myself all next week. If I to balance the indulgence, then it is no longer an indulgence, but a trade-off. I’m not interested in deprivation or justification or any of that. I want joy in my life and on Sunday, joy will come in the form of a chocolate rabbit. Or duckling. Or brown butter ganache-filled robin’s eggs.

Today’s target number, just like yesterday is 60.6.  I walked 7315 steps. I consumed Brown Cow French Vanilla yogurt with granola, scrambled eggs, 4 oz of filet, cup of coffee, half a cup of raspberries, energy mix nut packet, 6 dried apricots, green salad with strawberries, pecans, avocado and bleu cheese. And one perfect home-made Hot Cross Bun, which I made myself, and it was delicious. Such are the perils of the season.


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