One of the saddest, sorriest, most devastating side effects of my pregnancies has been a total lack of interest in chocolate. In fact, just a month ago, my husband bought me some of my favorite chocolates. They sat in the house untouched for days. Then I gave them to my mother. (Never mind being too sick to get out of bed, not being able to eat all day, constant nausea, and an aversion to the smell of my own house.)
Begs the questions: who am I? Without my chocolate, do I even exist?
I am happy to announce that a very small, modest, controlled desire for chocolate has resurfaced in my life. Though it will not lead me to eat an entire box of Whitman's chocolates in one sitting, I do believe there is a light at the end of the tunnel and I may well become the person I used to be.
In the meantime, morning sickness, as usual, has proven to be my best diet and people cannot stop saying, "You look so thin!"
Amazing what happens when you take a daily chocolate regiment out of a diet. Still, colors weren't as bright, laughs weren't as hearty, sunsets weren't as brilliant without chocolate in my life. I'm so glad you're back, dear chocolate. But what a shame that you give me terrible heartburn; can we work on that?
Isn't it always the ones you love who hurt you?