Confessions of an ex-heifer part 2: Once you go fat, you never go back.

Last night, as I was eating  relishing the gluttonous glory of life in my Ghirardelli Almond Sea Salt Soiree dark chocolate bar, I began to think about my journey with food. If you'll recall, I've already delved the physical joys of being an ex-heifer, but being a bulbous baby doesn't only take a toll on your muffin top - it leaves a sticky-sweet fingerprint on your will power. That's why I, and all my once-a-whale sisters out there, can say that once you go fat, you never go back. There will always be something that tickles your binge button.

Observe:
Katie Miller (to Gerry Flynn): "Is your girlfriend still eating?"
Gerry Flynn (to Katie Miller): "Cheerios twice a day, then two pounds of sweets at any given moment in time."

You see, many of those who know me me know that I am a pretty healthy human being. My meals are for the most part green and/or organic, sometimes consisting of things people didn't even know came from the earth. And stop rolling your eyes, I don't eat like this for hipster or granola reasons. I eat like this because prefer the way my body feels after a hearty salad (so good), as opposed to the way my body feels after a 7 piece student special at Chicken Express (so good). Unfortunately, though, many of those who know me also know that I have a deep-seeded affinity for Chocolate.

Like, it's stupid.

As the 30 extra pounds of my youth began to slowly shed (heavy on the slowly)(pun!), I began to see my will power become enclosed in a chocolate vault.

When placed in front of me, the bag of Dove dark chocolate covered almonds becomes my prey. And I, the lioness hunting for her family ...myself, must ravish this 3-serving-large bag of pure bliss before anything might happen to it. Like a house fire. Or a tornado. Or my mother catching wind that I have chocolate goodies in the house. That woman is like a bloodhound for the sweet mixed scent of cocoa butter and semisweet chocolate.

While I do have my chunky childhood mostly to blame, it doesn't help that I believe this unhealthy adoration is genetic. I believe that my mother is the tippy top of the coocoo-for-cocoa family tree. And I absolutely believe that she passed on to me, along with the aforementioned baby weight of an extra baby, the inability to resist a nibble or 60 of anything of the chocolate descent. And it's going to be a slippery slope for the generations to come (sorry Gerry). Because on the one hand, I'm not interested in my children having type 2 diabetes at the ripe age of 7. But on the other, my milk-chocolatey heart would weep regularly if I robbed them of the wonderful, orgasmic, mouth-watering world of Dove chocolate products.

I've contemplated getting a grip on this "problem" since I no longer have obvious weight issues and I'm kind of a control freak, but... no. Besides, dark chocolate has heart-health benefits. So in my mind, the more dark chocolate I consume, the healthier my heart.

It's a win-win.