The Curse of the Chocolate Bunny
Perhaps there is a factoid somewhere which validates the idea that pregnant women endure not only physical challenges while gestating, but that somehow their brains are affected as well. If not, I can publicly acknowledge that my brain and capacity for intelligent processing have definitely diminished. There are many evidences for this in my life but the most obvious one occurred this afternoon: I ate a whole chocolate bunny.
Those of you with children who have enjoyed Rack, Shack and Benny would probably be willing now to join in a sympathetic round of the Bunny Song with me. Just recalling the lyrics makes me feel stupid. Here is what happened:
It was innocent enough. I finished a not-too-big lunch. And was still hungry. There is little dessert in the house. But it just so happens that there is a certain dark chocolate bunny which I gave my husband for Easter (that was back in March for anyone keeping track) that he has never eaten. And it has stared at me, day after day. Night after night. Taunting me. I have warned him many times over the past weeks and months: “If you don’t eat that bunny soon, I may have to eat it myself!” Tell me this: if you were married to a hungry pregnant woman threatening to eat your dark chocolate bunny, would you be as cavalier about the poor confection animal as Jay has been? I hardly think so.
So folks, it was bound to happen: this afternoon, after my lunch (which was quite tasty!) I devoured the chocolate bunny. Every last morsel. It was very good. And everything was fine, till about an hour or more later, when I began feeling quite dizzy. And ill. After half an hour of this it occurred to me that perhaps my body was dealing with a significant sugar high, then low, brought on by my bunny consumption. Another half hour later there was no doubt. I was miserable. Shaky, nauseous, awful feeling. In due time Jay came home from work, and I confessed my gluttonous sin, and the fact that I was quite literally feeling rather ill over the whole thing.
“What? My bunny? I was going to take that to work with me!” he exclaimed, stricken, it would seem, over this bunny for whom he’d shown no real concern till now. Whatever. I could hardly take his disappointment seriously. But, he enjoyed poking a bit of fun at me until he realized that I was truly in a bad way over this bunny. And spent the rest of the evening being quite helpful while I tried to cope with a few chores, but mainly felt so sick I wanted to die.
It is now 9:30pm. And I feel terrible. I may never look at another chocolate bunny let alone eat one. Next Easter, please feel no need to present me with any chocolate treats of any variety. A basket of fresh fruit will be just fine, thank you. And now before I creep off to lie miserably in my bed continuing to battle the results of my gluttony, I leave you with this parting thought, dear readers:
Taken From Veggie Tales’ Rack, Shack, and Benny:
the bunny –
whoa, i ate the bunny.
I didn’t eat my soup or my bread
just the bunny.
the bunny –
oh i love the bunny!
But now i feel real sick in the head from the bunny.”