Browse archives: 2007 | 2006 | 2005 | 2004 | 2003 | 2002 | 2001 | 2000 | 1999 | 1998 | 1997 | 1996 | 1995

Published on 10/13/1999 All articles from this issue

The power of Godiva

printer friendly version

By Kerri Havnen Gordon

The Living Experiment

I must face my addiction. It is clouding my judgment and taking over my life. Quickly, insidiously, it is luring me down a path to physical destruction and subsequent mental anguish. I am only recently coming to terms with the fact that I am powerless in its grasp, putty in its hands. I am weak and humbled.

Having come from a family plagued by various addictions, I often wondered if and when I would acquire one of my own. So over the years, I have lived cautiously and without indulgence I don't smoke and rarely drink more than a half glass of wine at dinner. I have lived life in moderation.

But these days I am spiraling out of control.

Far from being a controlled substance, the source of my weakness is over the counter, approved by the FDA, can be purchased by minors, and is found in the frozen food section. If only my purchases were more clandestine, perhaps there would be hope for me, but my habit cemented with nary a raised eyebrow and is now thoroughly entrenched.

All this over a scant pint of ice cream. Godiva ice cream. Pecan caramel truffle ice cream.

A few months ago, a friend had the gall to bring to our house a variety of gourmet ice creams and snooty little cookies for dessert. Like a large-mouthed bass on a good day of fishing, I was hooked upon first bite. While the guests were around, I squelched gluttonous urges and dreamed of the moment when I could have a carton all to myself, with just a spoon for company.

The next day I slyly slipped my first Godiva container into the grocery cart and felt as if I had a new best friend. I did not yet realize it to be a dangerous companion who eventually would lead me into steady decline.

Each container has been more luscious than the last. Every grateful bite of rich chocolate ice cream, with thick veins of caramel and chocolate-coated pecans, speaks to me in a way no other ice cream ever could. Like a true addict, I have even begun to hide the containers, safely tucking them away behind the popsicles and frozen pizzas, concealed from others in the family, safeguarded for me. When I eat the ice cream, I am bathed in a state of bliss. When I am far from the freezer, I fantasize about my return.

I have tried several different weaning tactics. The abstinence route seemed logical, so I simply stopped buying the stuff. That lasted about four days. Then I figured that if I ate enough of it, gorging myself as often as I pleased, I would become absolutely sick of it and never want to eat it again.

When I was on my fourth container in about 10 days, I conceded defeat. Four containers - let's see: that's 320 calories and 19 grams of fat per serving, three servings per container. In 10 days I consumed 3,840 calories and 228 grams of fat in ice cream alone. Heaven help me.

So now I am appealing to the community for help. I implore everyone in the greater Bay Area to buy every single carton of Godiva pecan caramel truffle ice cream, thereby ridding the grocery shelves of my temptation.

I realize it is not a generous request, knowing I am condemning others to my fate, but I am desperate. I would gladly trade your addiction for my salvation. It is my only hope.

Kerri Havnen Gordon, a Mountain View resident, writes The Living Experiment monthly for the Town Crier.