I am working on a piece (kind of a pun) for a women's journal on chocolate. A few years ago I gave up eating chocolate as a way to end my migraines. I started this piece then, but have come back to it and am reworking it in my writing group. I'm posting it here as a work in progress.
The First Piece
This has been my ritual for 6 years: I wake. I shuffle downstairs. I warm up two cups of milk in the microwave. I set up the espresso machine with water for steam and coffee for my partner. When the milk is warm, I turn the dials on the machine to produce steam and I steam two cups -- one for her coffee, the other for my hot chocolate.
Every morning. She needs her coffee, but more than that, I need my chocolate.
Except today. Today I have given up chocolate. Not forever. Just for a few months. Six to be exact. It's a test. For the past few years I've suffered debilitating migraines, flat-on-my-back-ice-pack-on-my-hardened-eyeballs migraines. I discussed these headaches with my doctor.
"Let's try limiting certain foods," she suggested, "before we administer any drugs." She has a holistic approach. She is one part medical doctor and one part natropath. Often, when I am seeking treatment for what ails me, she will suggest a "non-traditional route." Those are her words. If that doesn't work, we follow traditions -- medication versus supplements; antibiotics versus a Neti pot.
"What foods?" I ask.
"Migraines are often triggered by outside stimulus. Bright lights, for instance, and often certain foods." We have ruled out bright lights and dehydration. We have ruled out a need for new glasses. "Those foods tend to be red wine, hard cheeses, and chocolate."
When she says the word chocolate I know she is referring to me. I eat chocolate on a daily basis. My morning begins with chocolate and often, before I go to bed, my evening ends with chocolate -- a chocolate mint, a leftover piece of cake, or another cup of cocoa. Chocolate pieces are scattered through my day. I do not drink alcohol, so therefore red wine is not the culprit. While I eat cheese, only occasionally will I sprinkle Parmesan on my pasta, but that's about it.
It is chocolate I must forgo. The doctor sees the expression on my face. "It's hard to give up chocolate, isn't it?" She knows me well. I agree to try and begin the next morning, this morning. I make coffee for my partner and pour myself a glass of apple juice. It's not the same.
Every morning. She needs her coffee, but more than that, I need my chocolate.
Except today. Today I have given up chocolate. Not forever. Just for a few months. Six to be exact. It's a test. For the past few years I've suffered debilitating migraines, flat-on-my-back-ice-pack-on-my-hardened-eyeballs migraines. I discussed these headaches with my doctor.
"Let's try limiting certain foods," she suggested, "before we administer any drugs." She has a holistic approach. She is one part medical doctor and one part natropath. Often, when I am seeking treatment for what ails me, she will suggest a "non-traditional route." Those are her words. If that doesn't work, we follow traditions -- medication versus supplements; antibiotics versus a Neti pot.
"What foods?" I ask.
"Migraines are often triggered by outside stimulus. Bright lights, for instance, and often certain foods." We have ruled out bright lights and dehydration. We have ruled out a need for new glasses. "Those foods tend to be red wine, hard cheeses, and chocolate."
When she says the word chocolate I know she is referring to me. I eat chocolate on a daily basis. My morning begins with chocolate and often, before I go to bed, my evening ends with chocolate -- a chocolate mint, a leftover piece of cake, or another cup of cocoa. Chocolate pieces are scattered through my day. I do not drink alcohol, so therefore red wine is not the culprit. While I eat cheese, only occasionally will I sprinkle Parmesan on my pasta, but that's about it.
It is chocolate I must forgo. The doctor sees the expression on my face. "It's hard to give up chocolate, isn't it?" She knows me well. I agree to try and begin the next morning, this morning. I make coffee for my partner and pour myself a glass of apple juice. It's not the same.
Piece Two
It doesn't help that Halloween just passed. We have a bowl full of chocolate candy bars sitting on the kitchen counter. We bought too much in preparation for a Halloween that is always short of trick or treaters. Instead, we eat it and feel guilty with every bite.
As I get ready to leave on my walk with the dog, I see a stray bar of chocolate on the table by the door. I will not eat it. I will not eat it. The morning November sun warms the spot where the chocolate sits, wrapped in silver and gold. I will not eat it. I grab the dog's leash, follow his prancing tail through the door, and head out on a long walk.
I will not eat it.
As I get ready to leave on my walk with the dog, I see a stray bar of chocolate on the table by the door. I will not eat it. I will not eat it. The morning November sun warms the spot where the chocolate sits, wrapped in silver and gold. I will not eat it. I grab the dog's leash, follow his prancing tail through the door, and head out on a long walk.
I will not eat it.
Piece #3
I quickly find alternatives to chocolate. I eat caramel sauce on vanilla ice cream topped with bananas and walnuts or toffee-covered peanuts or Payday candy bars, or occasionally, an espresso, Oreo shake. There's no chocolate in an Oreo. It surprised me, but I am also delighted. I can eat chocolate -- faux chocolate, I call it -- and convince myself I am actually indulging in the real thing when all along it is nothing but...well, I'm not certain what makes an Oreo taste chocolaty, though I think the answer lies in the combination of mysterious chemical ingredients listed in microscopic print on the back of the Oreo bag. It doesn't matter -- if feels like chocolate, and for now, it's enough...
...actually...it's not. I want chocolate. Some days more than others. Some nights more than others and it's the nights that are the worst. The bowl of ice cream demands chocolate and whines when I pour the caramel down its creamy sides. I whine, too. Not much, but just enough to appease my faultering will.
Remember, I tell myself, how awful those migraines are? The nausea. The wasted hours of lying in bed just waiting, unable to sleep, unable to read, unable to eat, unable to even watch TV. And even when the pain left, there was the dizziness, the feeling of heavy-headedness, the exhaustion.
I remember and eat my whiny ice cream each night then crawl into bed and fall asleep with sticky, unsatisfied lips.
...actually...it's not. I want chocolate. Some days more than others. Some nights more than others and it's the nights that are the worst. The bowl of ice cream demands chocolate and whines when I pour the caramel down its creamy sides. I whine, too. Not much, but just enough to appease my faultering will.
Remember, I tell myself, how awful those migraines are? The nausea. The wasted hours of lying in bed just waiting, unable to sleep, unable to read, unable to eat, unable to even watch TV. And even when the pain left, there was the dizziness, the feeling of heavy-headedness, the exhaustion.
I remember and eat my whiny ice cream each night then crawl into bed and fall asleep with sticky, unsatisfied lips.
The Fourth Piece
Type "women and chocolate" into an Internet search engine and over 38 million "hits" will pop up. They range from the informative to the pornographic. "Women prefer chocolate to sex," one title reads and another post displays a naked cocoa-skinned woman scantily clad in a thin layer of chocolate. There are whole research papers posted on various sites, some more legitimate than others.
"Phenylethylamine," writes Gwen Slaughter, a college student from Bryn Mawr, "is a chemical found in the body that is similar to amphetamine. It helps mediate feelings of giddiness, attraction, euphoria, and excitement. Researchers believe phenylethylamine causes the brain to release mesolimbic dopamine in the pleasure centers of the brain, which peak during an orgasm."
Other research link the consumption of chocolate to lower blood pressure in women claiming that a daily intake of dark chocolate can reduce heart attacks. There are pages and pages of documentation extolling the virtues of eating a small chunk of dark chocolate to "lift your spirits" and "to avoid depression." It's not all good news, though. Some studies report lower bone density in women who eat chocolate and others link chocolate to an increase in the outbreak of herpes.
The majority of posts, though, aren't informative at all. They are meant to be seductive and provacative. There are pictures of women drenched in chocolate wrestling for the enjoyment of drunken men. There are photographs of women spreading chocolate on their faces in Japan as they soak in a hot tub of thick, melted chocolate. There are naked, chocolate-dipped women marching in a parade, sexy, skinny women licking chocolate from a very large phallic-shaped spoon, a muscular man with a bikini-clad women in his lap watching as she licks chocolate off the chest of another muscular man.
There are cars painted with chocolate, jewelry made from chocolate, and statues carved from it. Page after page celebrating the joys and evils of the stuff and the particular attraction women have with the quantity and quality of chocolate. There are 38 million posts discussing chemistry, physiology, spirituality, economics, politics, and sexuality in one way or another.
We are obsessed with chocolate. Women in particular.
I am not alone.
Type "women and chocolate" into an Internet search engine and over 38 million "hits" will pop up. They range from the informative to the pornographic. "Women prefer chocolate to sex," one title reads and another post displays a naked cocoa-skinned woman scantily clad in a thin layer of chocolate. There are whole research papers posted on various sites, some more legitimate than others.
"Phenylethylamine," writes Gwen Slaughter, a college student from Bryn Mawr, "is a chemical found in the body that is similar to amphetamine. It helps mediate feelings of giddiness, attraction, euphoria, and excitement. Researchers believe phenylethylamine causes the brain to release mesolimbic dopamine in the pleasure centers of the brain, which peak during an orgasm."
Other research link the consumption of chocolate to lower blood pressure in women claiming that a daily intake of dark chocolate can reduce heart attacks. There are pages and pages of documentation extolling the virtues of eating a small chunk of dark chocolate to "lift your spirits" and "to avoid depression." It's not all good news, though. Some studies report lower bone density in women who eat chocolate and others link chocolate to an increase in the outbreak of herpes.
The majority of posts, though, aren't informative at all. They are meant to be seductive and provacative. There are pictures of women drenched in chocolate wrestling for the enjoyment of drunken men. There are photographs of women spreading chocolate on their faces in Japan as they soak in a hot tub of thick, melted chocolate. There are naked, chocolate-dipped women marching in a parade, sexy, skinny women licking chocolate from a very large phallic-shaped spoon, a muscular man with a bikini-clad women in his lap watching as she licks chocolate off the chest of another muscular man.
There are cars painted with chocolate, jewelry made from chocolate, and statues carved from it. Page after page celebrating the joys and evils of the stuff and the particular attraction women have with the quantity and quality of chocolate. There are 38 million posts discussing chemistry, physiology, spirituality, economics, politics, and sexuality in one way or another.
We are obsessed with chocolate. Women in particular.
I am not alone.
The Fifth
I have counted the days of my chocolate fast. 78. Tomorrow will be 79. I haven't experienced a migraine yet.
Damn it.
I've come to realize the power of my will is in my head, lodged somewhere between my common sense and righteous indignation. For years I pictured my will power somewhere below my belly button -- a knot of determination, tight as my fist. Now I know differently. My will power lies in the conversations I have with myself, silent conversations filled with good intentions and ubiquitous schmaltzy affirmations. You are stronger than your desires. You don't need chocolate, you want it. It fills a void you must now explore. You can live without it and still be a decent, loving person.
My will power is an internalized argument -- logical, eloquent, rational, and filled with pontifications. Everyone told me, including the doctor, that my desire for chocolate would subside as the weeks passed. Weeks have passed and I want chocolate today as much as I did 78 days ago. My desire for chocolate is a harlot, the promiscuous daughter, the one who tells lies without remorse, and flaunts her long legs and sassy cleavage in the face of saints and preachers. Audacious. She kisses God on the lips. She cannot be contained.
I have counted the days of my chocolate fast. 78. Tomorrow will be 79. I haven't experienced a migraine yet.
Damn it.
I've come to realize the power of my will is in my head, lodged somewhere between my common sense and righteous indignation. For years I pictured my will power somewhere below my belly button -- a knot of determination, tight as my fist. Now I know differently. My will power lies in the conversations I have with myself, silent conversations filled with good intentions and ubiquitous schmaltzy affirmations. You are stronger than your desires. You don't need chocolate, you want it. It fills a void you must now explore. You can live without it and still be a decent, loving person.
My will power is an internalized argument -- logical, eloquent, rational, and filled with pontifications. Everyone told me, including the doctor, that my desire for chocolate would subside as the weeks passed. Weeks have passed and I want chocolate today as much as I did 78 days ago. My desire for chocolate is a harlot, the promiscuous daughter, the one who tells lies without remorse, and flaunts her long legs and sassy cleavage in the face of saints and preachers. Audacious. She kisses God on the lips. She cannot be contained.
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