I love sugar and I love chocolate. I don’t keep this stuff in the house because I’d gain weight. Imagine how many people would ask me if I were pregnant then.
I have spent this past week trying not to eat a box of chocolates gifted to me by the esteemed Drs. Hound. The chocolates were gifted in thanks for relieving their dogs from their loneliness and their full bladders while Drs. Hound are working long days.
Jelly deserves the bulk of the thanks, however. She’s been an entertaining visitor, using her primary method of engagement, which is loud and incessant barking. Sometimes it works but more often it gives me a headache. I am keeping all windows closed and thanking goodness the closest neighbour is an elderly fellow whom I pray is hard of hearing.
Tragically, despite Jelly’s persistent efforts to entertain her friends, I cannot share my chocolates with her because chocolate and dogs don’t mix. Life is unfair sometimes. Thus, I will have to eat all 19 delectable chocolates on my own. I am determined to pace myself.
Today is Day 5 and I have eaten only 1 chocolate thus far. If chocolate is a weak spot, a nemesis, an addiction, how have I managed this miracle of uncharacteristic self-restraint? I have employed every strategy in the book. Some researchers believe we have a limited amount of willpower that we should allocate judiciously, but I say “Balderdash!” I think my willpower is infinite under the right conditions.
Here are my simple strategies for success on the non-consumption front. First, I left the box at the Hound house, knowing if I took it home, I’d probably eat the whole thing in one sitting, or, even worse, I’d have to share it with J. I waited until Day 3 to break the cellophane and studied the legend enclosed so I could imagine what was to come. And then I closed the full box.
On Day 4, after a stressful morning–yes, I’m an emotional eater–I finally consumed my first chocolate. It was especially delicious since I’d been salivating over it for days. I first determined which chocolate I’d eat, reviewing the legend again at length. I then chose one chocolate and savoured it slowly, after which I quickly shut the box and left the house.
Drs. Hound have commended me for my self-restraint, but in fact I needn’t show self-restraint if I limit my access. My open box of chocolates remains at the Hound house so the restraint is all theirs. Were I in their shoes, I’d hold off only so long, consume a chocolate or two, and buy another full box to replace the ones I’d consumed. So good on you, Drs. Hound.
Now I must go home to eat something indulgent. I never said I was abstaining from everything I love this week, just from the fancy chocolates. I can’t see those chocolates going bad. Let’s see how Drs. Hound do over the weekend with my tempting open box within reach. At least they know where they bought the first box if they need to run out for a replacement.