The End Of Chocolate Season


With any luck at all, today will be the end of Chocolate Season.  Even as I type, there are only two eggs and one bunny (minus ears) left from this year’s Easter cacao extravaganza.  The eggs are already spoken for, and I really don’t think (considering his injuries) the bunny will last the night.  I’ve always loved Chocolate Season, but this year, I have to admit, I won’t be sorry to see the back of it.  The thing is I’m another year older and my man-of-the-world physique is getting a little thick around the equator.  This is no big deal really except the calorie fairies have been in my closet again and sewn all my clothes one size smaller.  Plus, the $49.95 digital scale I bought less than a year ago has developed a 5 kilo defect.  (In American terms, that over 10 lbs!)  So, much as I hate to admit it, the bottom line is, over this winter, I’ve radically increased my bottom line.

Back in the day, winter plump didn’t mean anything to me.  It was something that happened to other people.  I could spend the colder six months of the year lying around, watching TV sports and reading long, gangly British novels — without gaining a gram.  Pizza and Pepsi™ had no effect on me, and chocolate, in all its many forms, was my friend.  There was always a slight loss of muscle tone, but even in the last days of March, mirrors didn’t scare me.  How the mighty have fallen!  Last week I got out of the shower and — uh — let’s just say there wasn’t room enough in that bathroom for both of us to dry our backs.

The problem is inside my head I’m still broad-in-the-shoulder, narrow -at-the-hip, and 35 year old.  Nothing jiggles when I walk, and I can take my shirt off without frightening old ladies and confusing the babies.  That’s inside my head.  Outside my head, the reality is there’s only so much bum you can stuff into a pair of Levis™ before the fabric finally rebels.  And, quite honestly, there are bits of me that shouldn’t be this uncomfortable when I walk.  No, I’m going to have to silence my inner skinny person and do one of two things — either get off my grand derriere and get some exercise or buy a new wardrobe — ’cause I don’t want to miss Chocolate Season next year.

(FYI, Chocolate Season begins a couple of weeks before Hallowe’en when you start eating the candy you supposedly bought for the kids.  It runs from there through Christmas and Valentine’s Day and only ends when the last bunny bites the dust after Easter.)

11 thoughts on “The End Of Chocolate Season

  1. My ” man-of-the-world physique ” is a matter of ancient history, if it ever existed but luckily, although not immune to it’s charms. I am not addicted to chocolate. I cannot say the same for either cheese or sausages !

  2. Oh, those winter bums! It’s just not fair!!

    We had the first really lovely spring day in Bavaria today, so I enthusiastically tossed my heavy winter gear into a corner and whipped out the good old Wranglers™. Few things are as pathetic as a 41 year old woman wriggling around on the floor, trying to squeeze her lusciously rounded behind into some worn old jeans.

    Once I arrived at the stable, my little mare eyed me with blatant skepticism. She’s one to talk, I had to widen the girth on the saddle by two notches since November and she’s not even allowed chocolate!

    Long story short, I need new Wranglers™.

      1. Wouldn’t dream of it. 😁
        We might be two chubby girls shedding winter coat and jeans buttons as we go, but we still show those sleek, flashy youngsters how it’s done.

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