Alice?

With a view of Alcatraz in the background, we got our tickets and headed into the fray. Twenty bucks got us each 15 samples of chocolate. There were tents and tents of vendors, from Ghiradelli to smaller chocolate shops with $25 chocolate bars or freshly decanted chocolate vodka. As is typical in large crowds, I tend get overwhelmed and lose my head a little bit.

At first, we wanted to ration our 15 samples, Oregon-trail style. But the place was crowded, and we wandered around being constantly elbowed by people with chocolate-stained lips trying to get ahead of you in the gelato line. We feasted randomly instead, trying a truffle here or a chocolate tart there.

Even with eating chocolate and doing shots of chocolate vodka indiscriminately, we realized that 15 pieces is a fuckton of chocolate. We’d gone through and tried everything we were interested in and still had 6 or 7 samples to go. We went back through the lines, this time eating without any abandon whatsoever, downing samples of ginger and cherry liqueur, drinking chocolate-flavored coconut water, and getting three samples a time at the most delicious booths (Sharona’s Chocolate Shop and your salted dark chocolate, I’m looking at you). I went to the festival with the intention of taking tasty-looking pictures, but I was stuffing my face so much that I barely took any.

We were taking a break from binging to paw through the rummage sale (a strange and random accompaniment to the chocolate festival, complete with ugly shoes and a gramophone), when I started to feel iffy.

I should mention here that I’d had eggs and toast for breakfast that morning, and nothing since. I’m hypoglycemic and normally good about managing my blood sugar, but for some reason I’d adopted a dangerous devil-may-care attitude after the coffeepot had broken that morning and decided that in the battle of Jill versus blood sugar, Jill would certainly win.

After years of dealing with migraines and their sometimes-gross consequences, I knew the warning signs. Shaky hands, a headache above my eyebrows, feeling jittery and unable to focus on anything—so instead of being an intelligent person and getting some food, I instead took two Excedrin. And then ate some more chocolate.

Thanks to the Excedrin, my symptoms were still there, I just didn’t feel them. And I certainly didn’t feel hungry. We attempted to burn off all the chocolate by walking down to Fisherman’s Wharf and up to the top of Lombard Street.

I forgot about my blood sugar, ate a late Italian dinner, and celebrated Greg’s birthday at the Elbo Room, with a brief interlude of drunk-eating a hamburger for second dinner.

Flash forward to this morning. My stomach was knotted up and I had a headache and I thought I might vomit. I’d only had two drinks, so this wasn’t your average hangover—it was an effing chocolate hangover. Did you know this is possible? I’m the girl who has one of everything at my grandmother’s Christmas Eve dessert table, and even I have never been this full.

I’ve never been much of a candy eater, but hot damn do I love chocolate. After this, though, I feel like we’re going to have to stop seeing each other for a little while. Or a long while. I hope the chocolate festival didn’t ruin me for other chocolate.

Who am I kidding? You know I’ll go running back with open arms.

—

Jill Kolongowski is a freelance writer and editor living in San Francisco. When she’s not cooking, running, or reading, she blogs at jillkolongowski.com. Follow her on Twitter at @jillkolongowski.

Part of the reason I feel this way is that I’ve never really been an emotional eater. That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy destroying a tub of Ben & Jerry’s or most of the cookie dough every now and then. But I never go out and get a bag of chips or a chocolate bar, just to eat it. I don’t buy soda to drink at home. (My mother never had soda in the house either, which I hated at the time, but guess what, mom—it worked!) Most of the junk food I eat is either at holidays, at restaurants or parties, or as gifts.

Before you, dear reader, get all mad that I’m being high and mighty, let me tell you what happened on Friday. I’ve never been in an office where people other than the boss give cards and gifts, but last week I walked away with quite a bit of loot—cards, earrings, picture holders, and chocolate. One of my friends gave me a very large bar of Godiva milk chocolate. It was early in the morning, but I thought a pre-breakfast square of Godiva might be the perfect appetizer. It was smooth and creamy and oh-so-delicious. I was typing, looking over proofs, and before I knew it, I’d eaten 4 squares. It wasn’t even 10 in the morning.

By the end of the day, I’d eaten the entire bar. I think it was something like 800 calories. I know I’ve talked shit about calories before, but I looked more out of curiosity than anything else. By the end of the day, I’d also eaten some mint-chocolate candy, some peppermint bark, and some truffles. One of my other friends asked me to go down to the cookie exchange, but by that time I was rocking a pretty severe sugar headache and didn’t think I could stomach it.

What happened? I thought I had self-control. I thought I wasn’t an emotional eater. But it turns out that chocolate is my kryptonite. It turns out my impulse to not buy chocolate is completely grounded in reality. I was thinking of making some sort of dessert to hand out at work, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea. If other people are anything like me, they’ve already had more than enough chocolate. However, I also don’t think people will like getting a bag of carrots with a red ribbon tied around them as a gift. How is it that chocolate is the perfect holiday gift, and anything else would just seem grinchy?

I decided not to be too hard on myself. ‘Tis the season, and all that—maybe the chocolate binge was just my body’s way of celebrating. After all, one of my family’s holiday traditions is still to get up early, open our stockings, and break into the chocolate long before we’ve eaten breakfast. There’s nothing quite like coffee and chocolate in front of the Christmas tree.

Happy holidays!