I am all about chocolate.  With a desperate last effort to lose weight before my knees collapse from the sheer force of gravity I am coming to the reality that I may be a chocoholic.  Normally I am offended by the ‘oholic’ suffix because it is just so cliche’.  My present medical condition seems to justify the abuse of our language.

About ten months ago I started walking every day.  Every third day I lift weights.  At one point I was down seventeen pounds.  Winter came, snow covered the urban trails where I walk, my knees hurt, and I had idle time.  Idle time through the holidays is not good for my chocolate 12 Step Program.  I reflect on Poe, …once upon a winter night dreary, as I pondered chocolate, weak and weary…’  Something like that.  I gained eight pounds.

The professional marketers of modernity know which buttons to push on my willpower.  Chocolate turkeys at Thanksgiving, Chocolate everything at Christmas, Valentines Day chocolate hearts, Easter Bunnies – there is no end to the temptations.  If I were stranded on a glacier in Greenland an Eskimo would come by with his Saint Bernard and a whiskey flask full of hot chocolate.  There is no escape.

I may be a fool – but I am a frugal fool.  My favorite is Hershey’s milk chocolate.  But in the world of the 21st Century the stores post the per ounce cost on their products.  Reese’s Pieces sell for 17.4 cents per ounce, compared to 25.2 cents for Hershey’s.  The added flavor of Peanut Butter is not a problem for me – in many ways it is a bonus.  I like Dairy Queen chocolate strawberry or chocolate cherry malts.  Anything prefaced with chocolate seems to work.

But what does it mean to be an addict?  Might I be a connoisseur of fine chocolate?  There are such things, I am sure.  I once heard an alcoholic say that it is easier to not drink at all than it is to drink one drink.  If that is the definition of an addict – then my chocolate craving is out of control.  I bought a bag of Reese’s Pieces with the intention of enjoying something sweet after my evening meal.  The next day I went back to the store for more Reese’s.  With a bag of chocolate peanut butter morsels in hand I stepped to the checkout.  After ringing up my purchase the clerk said, “See you tomorrow.”

My alcoholic friend told me he was on a first name basis with the Pakistanis at the Liquor Store.  In my case I am becoming far too friendly with the clerk at the chocolate store.