Just Call Me Eve…
If you stay over night at my house, and you hear a lot of commotion coming from the kitchen, around say four in the morning, do not be alarmed. Do not call 911! It’s just me, looking for chocolate. I ravage the cabinetry and the pantry searching for a Hershey’s white chocolate bliss or a Godiva chocolate truffle drizzled in caramel. Oh, my mouth waters just thinking about the sinfully, delicious, treats. I am worse than a heroin addict in desperate need of a fix, only my drug of choice is legal and fattening. It’s true. I am an addict!
If you would have told me five years ago, that I would transform into a sleepless, chocolate-seeking mommy, I would have screamed at the top of my lungs, “Blasphemy! Liar! Liar!”. I’ve never been a sweet treats kind of girl. I never ate cake, except at birthdays, and even then I would leave the frosting. I never made friends with little Debbie or the Hostess with the Mostess. I just never wanted sweets. Never craved them, until now.
My taste buds started to change after I had children. My kids have truly added so much to my life including 15 extra pounds to my thighs and hinny,
why couldn’t it all went to my bust instead. The worst part lies with Victoria, she’s not going to keep my secret any longer. My comfy, thigh-hugging and belly-button touching granny panties are now thongs. Yes, thongs! Oh Dear! So, I made a conscious decision to drop what I had gained, not the children just the extra weight. The very moment this thought entered my mind, my taste buds began to rebel. “We want melt in your mouth, not on your tongue, chocolate! We want steak trimmed in juicy fat! We want fettucini smothered in creamy alfredo sauce! We want deep dish pizza buried with pepperoni’s and extra, extra, cheese! For the love of God, we want all this and more, now!”, my taste buds roared, in perfectly timed unison.
I don’t understand why! Why the minute, we humans decide something should be off limits, we begin to think about erasing the boundary lines, almost simultaneously. Why do we hunger most after those things that are forbidden and should be forsaken. Why? Why? Why, I ask?
I know we are made to crave, Lysa Terkeurst! I know that, but why couldn’t we have been made to crave things that are good for our well-being like Broccoli & Cauliflower, Brussel sprouts, Kale and Salmon. Pardon me while I go puke and have a “I relate to Eve” moment.
I blame Eve, the real first lady, for numerous things. Starting with my subordinace to the male species, my 24 hours total of
anguish childbirth, and of course, my pure, palpable desire for anything forbidden and sinful. Yes, thank you, Mother Eve!
Our appetite for the verboten all began with one, luscious, piece of fruit. I know, if you are a familiar with The Holy Bible, than you know the sins of Eve. If not, here’s a brief synopsis. Adam and Eve are in placed in the Garden of Eden, and they can eat from any tree that inhabits the Garden, except from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, per God, their creator. We all know what happens next, the serpent seduces Eve encouraging her to eat from the tree, she gives it some thought, and then digs right in. She hands the fruit over to Adam, and he follows her lead, and digs right in. The serpent is happy, and Adam and Eve our doomed. Eve blames the serpent, when questioned by God, and Adam blames Eve, of course! They are both responsible for the fall of all mankind (Eve more so than Adam) and ultimately sentenced to die. As a result of their crimes, not only will they waltz thru the valley of the shadow of death, but eve’s sorrow’s will be multiplied in childbirth and man will always rule over her. Adam is sentenced to a hard live of physical labor, and the serpent loses his creepy legs forcing him to crawl on his slimy, scaly, belly. The End, literally!
Despite the resentment, I sometimes harbour toward Eve (she gave all women a bad name right from the start)I can truly relate to her struggle with good and evil. I’m sure we all can. If it had been me in the lush, Garden of Eden with Adam, I doubt my actions would have been any different than Eve’s. All I need is a little goading and I’ll eat a whole bushel of apples, spoiling me rotten from the inside out. Believe it or not, I even have a serpent that follows me everywhere I go, cheering me on. He follows me to the grocery, twisting his slinky body around the handle bar on the cart, “Hmm, a quart of Hagaan Dazs ice cream would be just delightful. Go ahead treat yourself, you deserve it after all!”, he hisses. He nests in the floorboard of my car, an interwoven coil, “Yum, a Big Mac with no lettuce, no pickles would be oh so good! When’s the last time you had a Big Mac, anyway?”, he prods. He slithers along my kitchen counter, wrapping himself around the candy bowl,”Oh My, there is only one Reece’s peanut buttercup left. Go ahead take it, just one won’t hurt!”, he pleads.
I am no better than Eve. Most days I believe the serpent’s lies and give into his temptations. Oh, how I wish I was stronger! Oh, how I wish I possessed an abundance of will power and carried more self-control than a nun in a convent. I long to silence the serpent, but I can’t. He is a part of me…
Does this mean I am a hopeless case? No! Does this mean I am predestined for pants with elastic waist bands only. No! I may not be able to silence the serpent but I can learn to tune him OUT! I can ignore the lies that drip from his forked tongue like water dripping from a leaky faucet. To me, the serpent mostly resembles an oversized fifth-grade bully. If you bend beneath the weight of his torture and your actions reveal that he’s gotten underneath your skin, then he will most likely continue to torment you. However, if you continue to ignore his rantings and display no signs of irritation or panic, he will most likely lose interest in you and move onto some other poor soul. I plan to put this theory to test and just hopefully I will be successful in constricting his vocal chords. Wish me luck and weight loss, please!