Planned Chocolate Consumption.

Easter. Bleh.

I'll eat all of my two chocolates. One bunny, one baby chicken.
Then I'll feel queazy.
Then I'll promise myself, for the umpteenth year in a row, that I will never eat all of my chocolate in one sitting ever again because I'll feel like crap and my heartbeat will be racing and I'll generally feel like my eyes are about to pop out of my head. Not a pretty picture.

Okay, I won't do that. Thank you, Conscience (Little Person Living Inside My Head - is that you?), for making me realize I could voluntarily avoid feeling sick sometime this weekend. I'll eat the bunny only. Then the next day, I'll eat the baby chicken.

No, no, wait, I won't do that either. I'll be reasonable. I'll have only the bunny's ears.
He's only got an ear and a third, really, because he's sitting sideways. It's a profile of a bunny.
So I'll eat that, then I'll put the earless bunny away. Then I'll eat the baby chicken's head. And I'll put the rest away too. It's actually a 2-D baby chicken, so it's not too bad if I eat its head, then the rest some other time. I mean, it's not a full 3-D chicken. No harm done.

Ah. I feel much better now, knowing how I'll eat my chocolate this year. When I was a kid, thank the authorities my mom kept me in line, because I think I would have eaten the whole collection of chocolates we got in one day. It seems like our whole family thought it was a good plan to buy us chocolate, and in my memories there was chocolate everywhere. Had I eaten all of it, I probably would have run a freaking trench into the hardwood floor, pacing and pulling out my hair (and my sister's, heehee), rolling my eyes and screaming insanities.

But no. My mom rationed the chocolate. I am thankful now, but as a child I felt it was the most cruel thing a mother could do to her children, especially at Easter, what with all the fuzzy bunnies and little yellow baby chickens and pastel colors all around. Oh! And the woven baskets we made in school and filled with the plastic hair/fake hay stuff.

The adults actually made us work for that shit too, we had to go on an Easter-egg hunt all around the house. And the adults were all standing there, in a line, with a glass of wine in one hand, patting each other on the back, thinking they were smart. They were thinking: "Oohhh, they'll never find it this year. We'll have to give them hints. We've found way better hiding spots than last year's. Haha. We adults are so smart. We find the best hiding places for chocolate. Look at them, poor little helpless creatures, lifting the sofa cushions. Pffft! Shyeah right!" and then after thinking all that, they would stand there, astonished and positively flabbergasted, as we proudly displayed the whole lot, just like that, found in ten minutes. Oh - maybe even five minutes. Ha! In your face, adults! Good times. I loved the Easter-egg hunt. Especially when I found the mother lode, the king/queen/royalty of all Eastereggs, the Laura Secord creme-filled egg. Oh man.

I actually bought one a few years ago, after holding it in my hands for a couple of seconds in the store thinking back to its awesome taste and creaminess. I took it home, sat in the kitchen, tore the box open and, just like my mom used to do, pulled out a serrated knife and cut a slice of it, width-wise. I looked at it a little more, and ate the slice.

Then I felt queazy.
Then I promised myself that I would never buy that ever again because I felt like crap and my heartbeat was racing and I generally felt like my eyes were about to pop out of my head. It's amazing what you can sustain when you're a kid.

When I was a kid, to me, Easter was for overindulging, eating craploads of chocolate at all times of day, and eating the ham. I'll be eating the ham this year. I'll be cooking the ham myself, for crying out loud. So I'll definitely be eating the ham, and also the bunny and the baby chicken. But not all at once.

Because I'm smart. That's right.