Toes & Chocolate



I broke my toe.

And not in a cool way. Although, I’ve been telling people that I broke it while saving the life of a woman and her infant child who were trying to cross the street as a giant truck quickly approached. While I was able to get her and her baby to safety, the truck grazed my toe.

But that’s a big fat lie. Here’s the truth:

I hide things from myself. And, although one would think that hiding something from YOURSELF is impossible, because you know and remember where you put it, so it’s not really hidden – It’s not impossible. I’m a firm believer in “Out of sight, out of mind.” I’ve managed to do without Peanut Butter since June of last year, which is crazy talk, considering I was single-handedly responsible for the increase in sales of Skippy Natural for a while. I haven’t even wanted it. No desire to have it. Why? Because I haven’t seen a jar in forever, and thus the desire wasn’t triggered.

Back to my toe story. I also hide chocolate from myself. Mainly because I refuse to give it up, and as long as I allow myself chocolate on occasion, I can keep my addiction under control. All you social drinkers and smokers feel me here, I’m sure… (no mentions of the word Denial, please). I love dark chocolate. I’m powerless against it. So, I allow it when it’s needed – cheat days and those really hard days when comfort food has to happen.

I like to hide it in the pantry, behind the flour and baking supplies. Tucked away, so that no one knows it’s there.

This past weekend, I decided that I needed a chocolate fix. So, while my better half was outside with the dogs, I saw a small window of opportunity where I could sneak a quick bite and be done. Easy enough. Just grab the bag of chocolate, take a quick piece and call it a day. Easier than a bank robbery. Or, so one would think.

The chocolate wasn’t where I remembered it. Things had shifted slightly and I couldn’t find it. I needed leverage. I needed to be able to see onto the shelf a little better, so I did what any junkie would do – I climbed onto a dining chair. Here’s what went through my mind:

“Found it! Hallelujah!….  This chair isn’t very sturdy…. … Whoa, wait….. Stop wobbling…. damnit, I’m about to fall, aren’t I?”


I saved the chocolate. Managed to stuff it into my mouth and return the chair and myself to normal positioning. Took a look at my arm and knee, which hit pretty hard, and saw that they seemed to still work, so we were good! Success!

Then I tried to stand up. Pain. And, I looked down at my foot. Purple. *sigh*

Where’s the lesson in this? I could tell children not to stand in chairs, or eat things that you shouldn’t. But I won’t. I’ll tell you this: Don’t hide things from yourself. Or, if you’re going to hide things, don’t put them so far out of reach, that you need a wobbly chair to get to them. Instead of slightly above eye level, let’s go with all good hidden things should be somewhere between waist and eye level. No higher, no lower.

Maybe a better lesson is to get sturdier chairs.


Thoughts? I'd love to hear them!