There are support groups for alcoholics, workoholics and even foodoholics, but chocoholics are doomed to suffer their misery alone.
I'm sure you've all known someone who could devour a whole box of chocolates in one evening; who could sit down to watch TV next to a dish of M&M's and by the time two or three programs were over, that dish was empty; who could single-handedly make a half-gallon of chocolate peanut butter cup ice cream disappear within three days. The person I know who has done all these things is yours truly -- me!
I've not only done all of the above more than once, but there were a couple of other episodes that I should be ashamed to mention except that they were so outrageously stupid that I still have to laugh when I think of them.
The first occurred about 18 years ago. My children bought me a microwave oven for Christmas. A few months later, after Easter, I was having a real chocolate attack. All the leftover Easter candy had been placed in the freezer so I wouldn't be tempted to eat it, but it was calling to me.
So I took out a chocolate-covered, cream-filled egg. It was one of those in the colorful plastic wrapper. It was frozen solid and my craving wasn't going to wait for it to thaw naturally, so I put it in the microwave. What I didn't know was that underneath the plastic was a layer of foil, which started to arc and flame. Luckily, I noticed it right away so no harm was done. But I gave myself a severe talking to for almost ruining my new oven for the sake of a piece of candy.
Of course that didn't cure me. I don't remember how much time elapsed until the next episode occurred. It might have been the following Easter, because it again involved candy in the freezer, where it should have been safe. But it wasn't safe from me when my sweet tooth was acting up. This one was a big, solid chocolate rabbit, from which I wanted a small portion. I tried cutting off a slice, but the knife wouldn't go through.
Then I tried putting the point of the knife into it and hitting the top of the handle. It went in a little bit but not enough to break any off. My next bright idea was to poke and pound in several places until that bunny gave up and shattered. I was determined to have my chocolate.
Well, it finally happened, and a few small pieces broke off. But then I noticed that the point of the knife was gone! I examined each piece and the remaining large part, but couldn't see anything that looked like metal. I pushed around all the little crumbs on the plate and checked the table around the plate. Nothing there, either.
Now, if you think I threw away all that good candy just because there might be a knifepoint embedded in it, you don't know me very well. At least not when I'm having a chocolate fit. I just savored each little bite slowly and as it melted in my mouth, I made sure there was nothing sharp in there before I swallowed.
At the same time, I was telling myself what an idiot I was for taking a chance of getting my throat cut to satisfy a chocolate craving. Incidentally, I found the knifepoint on the floor later.
I'm not quite as bad now as I was back then. These days I get a stomach ache and have to stop eating before the box or dish is empty. What can I say except:"My name is Edna and I'm a chocoholic."