Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall

It doesn’t take much to convince me to throw my diet (nasty little four letter word as it is) to the wind and indulge in life’s pleasures.  First comes desire, as I talk myself into the fact that just a “little bit” can’t hurt (after thousand’s of “little bits”, I must admit it may be time to purchase a new mirror, as the current one appears to be broken because what I see in the reflection can’t possibly be me). Passion takes over as I assure myself that yes; chocolate is a basic food group and my body requires a daily dose to satisfy the food triangle requirements (I know, it may be delirious of me, but a girl can hope). I have learned not to fight the urge and embrace my inner self and the demands it makes of me.  Besides, life is too short to deny yourself something a little sweet once in a while.

Innocently enough it started.  Out of the corner of my eye I see happy, smiling folk in the new chocolate and ice cream shop in town.  I see joy in their faces and chocolate pieces being snarfled down in delight.  Their body language is screaming ecstasy and joy.  They are under the spell and it moves me in a way that asparagus never will.  I must admit that I have conveniently walked (not stalked) by (under the auspices of pure scientific research, of course!) and slyly snuck a peek through the butcher paper covering the window to monitor the progress and the potential opening of this Mecca of heavenly delight, hoping for a whiff of the alluring aroma of the gift from the gods, or a glimpse of what this palace of divineness was to be.  I must have burned at least 100 calories in this quest, which immediately justified (in my mind) a sampling of the goods – don’t want to waste away to nothing!

I coerced my child to accompany me into the store.  I have tried, rather successfully, to brainwash him into thinking that his craving for chocolate is primal and that his life depends on it.  I am basically using him as my foil; that he is in need of chocolate if he is to survive the evening.  I have used this approach before and no-one suspects a kid (I don’t know what I am going to do when he gets into his 30’s… pray for grandchildren, I suppose).

I am a proud momma, my child knows his way around a chocolate shop.  He has a discerning and discriminating palate that can differentiate between milk and dark chocolate and he hasn’t met a candy he doesn’t like. He expertly chooses the turtles; peanut clusters and chocolate covered peanut butter bars.  I don’t want to interrupt his focus, even though I thought he only wanted a couple pieces (that was part of the deal that I bribed him with).  But I surmise that if two pieces is good, then a whole box has got to be better – I quickly rationalize that I must purchase all of the pieces to help this foundling business… clothing stores can come and go, but I have to do what I can to keep this operation going.  I nonchalantly order my ice cream, after a brief understanding of which one from the list is the most “chocolately”.

As we leave, my betrothed is lurking in the shadows outside the store.  He said he was too full to indulge (he doesn’t quite get the “eat dessert first” mentality and plan accordingly); he said he couldn’t fit in another bite; he insisted that he wouldn’t/couldn’t succumb – but yet, there he was “waiting” to pounce and devour our treats.  I didn’t want to share. I did that once and he gobbled down the whole thing.  But I felt sorry for him with his puppy dog eyes woefully set…it is the least I could do to give him a bite or two, besides I know where I can always get more.

 Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life. Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-