A Chip on My Shoulder

My weigh-in was today – and after a week of diligent semi-honest tracking, mass water consumption, and three visits to the gym, I gained .4 of a pound. .4 – no big deal. Kind of like maybe… a poop. Sorry to be crass. But, it still sucks to think about the things I did RIGHT all week, and then have it seem like it was for naught. (And yes, I know it wasn’t – we’ll talk about that in the next blog). My weight watchers leader questioned me in our meeting about what derailed me from my plan. The answer came quickly, and left my mouth like a perfectly timed swear word- and it was CHOCOLATE CHIPS.

My Nemesis

You see, I’m not much of a sweets person. Dazzle me with doughnuts, drape me with eclairs, cover me in cocoa – I don’t care. Put a piece of chocolate cake in front of me, and then challenge it with a basket of fresh tortilla chips, and I’ll pick the chips 100 times over. But I do have a weakness for certain sweets – especially FROZEN chocolate chips. If they’re room temperature, I’ll leave ‘em alone ¬†– but freeze them and these toothsome little nuggets of cocoa-luxe are too hard to resist. Oh- and semi-sweet only – I don’t bother with any of that milk chocolate garbage.

I pop three or four of them in my mouth at a time, savoring the satisying crunch, the heft to each chip, the delicious melting of ¬†dark, decadent chocolate on my tongue. I don’t know if it’s a comfort thing, or a texture thing, or both, but those goddamn chocolate chips ruined my whole action plan.

I tracked them at 2 points per tablespoon, but I realized I probably didn’t track *all* of the chocolate chips I consumed. I pretty much inhaled a bag in a week. Yesterday, I made Matt takes the remains of the bag – by then crinkled and wrinkled into an illegible yellow sack (Tollhouse brand – always). And I missed them today. You can bet I missed them. After each meal, I longed for the savored feeling of cold chocolate against my teeth, washing away the salt of a previous meal, a perfect melange of bitter vs sweet… See? There’s something wrong in my head. Normal people don’t think about food like this. They think about sex, or purses (Hi Mom), or nicotine, or beer (Hi Dad) like this.

Do you have any “Chips” on your shoulder, or trigger foods? What are they, and do you avoid them – or invite them?


2 thoughts on “A Chip on My Shoulder

  1. To paraphrase:

    I have eaten
    the chocolate chips
    that were in
    the icebox

    and which
    you were probably
    saving
    for an afternoon snack.

    Forgive me
    they were delicious
    so sweet
    and so cold.

  2. To paraphrase:

    I have eaten
    the chocolate chips
    that were in
    the icebox

    and which
    you were probably
    saving
    for an afternoon snack.

    Forgive me
    they were delicious
    so sweet
    and so cold.

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