A few days ago, a seemingly innocuous celebration was held. It was World’s Chocolate Day! Just a mere couple of days before the much-marketed Valentine’s Day celebration.
Oh . . . the delightful imaginings of someone with appetites leaning towards the sweet and sinful . . . I could go on and on, rhapsodizing the once used currency by the ancient Mayans. That’s how valuable chocolate was before the world of Willy Wonka became synonymous to chocoholic heaven.
And since tomorrow is the hearts, flowers and stuffed animals day, I would like to share the reasons behind my love/hate relationship with chocolates and related desserts.
Love/Hate? Uh-huh. Everyone knows there’s a fine line between love and hate. It goes without saying that I hold that same definition with my relationship with chocolates and desserts.
I love sweets. I have overindulged in them since I was a kid, probably due to the fact that they’re almost always present in my household. I think more than 50% of the human population did overindulge and I guess I am proud to say that I’m in good company.
I guess I would also have to blame my genetic makeup. Almost everyone in my family – both maternal and paternal sides – are afflicted with the quintessential “sweet tooth”. This affliction is not reserved to just chocolates. A meal wouldn’t be complete without a slice or two of store-bought or homemade desserts at home. It carried over when I got my own place. My fridge is never without desserts in it.
There are tons of sweets and pastries that have plagued my very existence even with numerous health risk advices I encounter whichever way I look. It was a great struggle to resist especially when they all look so enticing. Whenever I pass by a cake shop, it seems that those tantalizing sweets have ethereal voices tempting me to buy them like my name is perpetually on their list of people to torment. I can’t desist sometimes and ended up buying even if I know it’s bad for me. This is the time when I hate them.
I love pies and cheesecakes on top of the rich decadence of cocoa’s bi-product. I can forgo a full meal with a personal-sized banoffee pie or blueberry cheesecake. Then, my dessert philandering was put on a complete stop when I received the results of my annual physical exam a year ago. My blood sugar level is teetering on dangerous ground and I need to cut back on my carb/sugar intake. I can’t bear the tears clogging my nearsighted eyes to tumble dramatically down my bloodless cheeks.
Goodbye honey-glazed doughnuts!
Goodbye peach-mango pies!
Goodbye triple layer chocolate truffle cake!
But even with my undying love for chocolates and sweets, I have to take care of my health if I long to live past 60. So, the extent of my sweet indulgence is a cup of hot cocoa three times a week. My sacrifices for more than a year is paying off. My blood sugar is not teetering on the brink of disaster anymore. My doctor has given me a green light in eating my faves without going overboard. The scare was enough to make me cautious.
So tomorrow, as much as it pains me, if there are die-hard Valentine’s Day fanatics (those who get so much into the hearts and candies mania) who will send me box/es of chocolates, I would have to share it with my family instead of selfishly hording it to myself. I will have to be a generous living thing to continue living . . . period.