Chasing the Chocolate Dragon
An outrageous idea: what would you do if the cocoa bean became contraband?
My name is Debbie and I’m a chocoholic.
Granted, there aren’t any support groups for me to join or detox clinics I can check myself into. There isn’t a discreet little patch I can slap on my arm to slowly wean myself from my addiction. No methadone equivalent—though if they did exist, what would they dispense?
Carob?
Laugh if you like, but whether it’s based on official research or the ecstasy you have personally experienced from a pint of Häagen Dazs chocolate chocolate chip, there’s no denying that chocolate is a powerful substance. Users like myself are all too familiar with its mind- and mood-altering properties.
For disbelieving nonusers—i.e., men—there’s a plethora of scientific evidence to support what we’ve known all along. The happy feeling chocolate gives us? Phenylethylamine. The increased energy? Caffeine. Not to mention that chocolate triggers the release of both serotonin and endorphins, creating, respectively, feelings of peacefulness and alertness.
If you’re going to be addicted to something, chocolate is not without its merits.
But what would happen if one day we were deprived of our chocolate? What if the powers that be redefined it as a controlled substance and made chocolate illegal? I shudder at the thought.
Then again, maybe that’s just the first sign of withdrawal…
Looking for a fix, I can no longer depend on Mrs. Fields or Sara Lee. As lords of the most powerful chocolate empires, they have been found guilty of selling illegal substances and are now serving 20-year jail sentences. I must search out other chocolate dealers. Thankfully, they’re not difficult to find—they’re hanging around Weight Watchers locations, shamelessly preying on the most vulnerable of us. And, heeding the silent, yet constant call of the cocoa bean, I succumb.
I hide behind my baseball cap and sunglasses as I get out of my car and cautiously approach the guy lurking in the long, black trench coat. His eyes nervously dart back and forth. I know he’s checking for narcs—even possession of an ounce can land you a year in jail. I give him the signal to let him know I’m okay. “Nobody doesn’t like Sara Lee,” I whisper. “N-E-S-T-L-E-S, Nestlés makes the very best,” he replies. “What do you want?” I tell him “a nickel bag” and as I hand him a $5 bill, he opens his coat and pulls out a small brown bag. I slip the M&M’s into my purse, scan the parking lot, and return to my car.
Soon I’m spending every waking moment eating chocolate or thinking about eating chocolate. My unstable blood sugar level makes it difficult for me to concentrate at work and my boss puts me on probation. I blow off my friends to be alone with my stash. My family pleads with me to get help before I ruin my life, not to mention my teeth.
I start shoplifting to help support my habit. When I can’t afford the quality chocolate—Toblerone, Ghiradelli, Godiva—I take my chances with the cheaper stuff. Occasionally, I am duped into buying white or sugar-free chocolate. Without chocolate, I become prone to violence, and I tear apart my kitchen searching for something to satisfy my craving. In a hallucinogenic fit, I mistake some pumpernickel bread for brownies, eat the entire loaf, and pass out from exhaustion.
Meanwhile, Nancy Regan resurfaces as a spokesperson and once again urges children to Just Say No. Nonprofit organizations and M.A.C.C. (Mothers Against Chocolate Consumption) produce powerful public service announcements. One particularly powerful television commercial features a fudgsicle being removed from a freezer and placed on the sidewalk. As the hot sun melts the fudgsicle into a dark puddle, a voice-over says, “The is your brain on chocolate. Any questions.” Parents applaud the provocative statement, schools incorporate the campaign in their chocolate-education programs, and the commercial’s advertising agency wins the coveted Clio award.
The American Medical Association classifies chocoholism as a disease and detox clinics pop up nationwide. Modeling itself after the Betty Ford Clinic, the Gene Wilder Center—named for the actor who developed his addiction while filming Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory—offers first-class treatment and attracts a celebrity clientele.
Sadly, Willy Wonka, once a children’s classic, is now criticized for its blatant encouragement of chocolate addiction. Other movies—as well as books and music—face scrutiny for their graphic portrayal of chocolate use. The famous “Life is like a box of chocolates” line is edited out of Forrest Gump. Using the same computer-generated special effects that allowed Tom Hanks to shake hands with President Kennedy, Forrest’s box of chocolates is replaced with a less controversial snack. Now imitators of the title character can be heard saying, “Life is like a can of mixed nuts. You never know what you’re gonna get.”
Tipper Gore lobbies for warning labels on albums with explicit lyrics. Parents worry their kids will be influenced by songs that promote chocolate use. And radio stations are besieged with letters to remove certain songs from their rotation, including “Morphine & Chocolate” by 4 Non Blondes and “Chocolate Cake” by Crowded House.
Once a staple in high school classrooms, Robert Cormier’s The Chocolate War is removed from curricula. Critics blast the book for its portrayal of high school officials who force students into the seedy underworld of illegal contraband by having them sell chocolate as a school fundraiser.
Holidays are also affected by the ban. Lovers now celebrate Valentine’s Day with flowers, candlelit dinners, and Whitman’s Samplers filled with a mouthwatering assortment of dried fruit. Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are reduced to delivering fruitcakes and jellybeans. And, on Halloween night, parents carefully check their children’s trick-or-treat bags for anything harmful—razor blades in applies, tampered packages, Kit Kat bars.
The general public becomes more aware of the dangers of chocolate addiction and learns to detect the signs: mood swings, brown smudges around the lips, increased consumption of milk. Most are happy to have the problem
under control, although there emerges a small sect that petitions for the legalization of chocolate—women suffering from P.M.S., who claim to use the substance strictly for medicinal purposes.
Me? I eventually join the newly founded Chocoholics Anonymous and take the first of 12 steps—I admit I am powerless over chocolate. “Chocolate wasn’t always a problem for me” I begin. “I was a recreational user at first, grabbing a handful of M&M’s at a party…it was hard not to, you know, everyone else was doing it. But then the M&M’s weren’t enough. And I started using stronger stuff. Soon I was going through a pound of Godiva in one day and scouring the streets for truffles. That’s when I knew I needed help.”
Through C.A., I’m able to take it one day at a time. My boss takes me off probation, my friends forgive me, and my family is thrilled that I’m back on track. But as a recovering chocoholic, I feel the overwhelming need to help save others from a life of despair. I offer my services as a test subject at a local research lab, where scientists are jumping on the chocoholism bandwagon to determine its causes. Two schools of thought are emerging. One attributes the addiction to genetic predisposition—if anyone in your family had a problem with chocolate, your chances are increased. Not so, say the researchers who support the theory that chocoholism is due to environmental influences, citing Hershey, Pennsylvania, as having the largest population of chocoholics…
Fortunately for us, the soft serve at Dairy Queen still flows freely. The Milky Way people are still employed. And the tube of chocolate chip cookie dough still sits in my fridge without the risk of being confiscated during a police raid. The nightmare of a world where chocolate is contraband doesn’t exist. But just thinking about it gives me the creeps. It makes me feel unnerved. It makes me feel uneasy.
It makes me feel like a couple of Oreos.
