My name is Carol, and I am a Chocoholic.

I offer my respect, and apologies to the great organisation from which I have borrowed, and tweaked, this statement. 

But it is the truth.

And as a confirmed chocoholic,I admit to approaching this time of year with trepidation.

Easter is upon us, a time to reflect on what this means to all of us in a religious sense; a time for families to get together, a time for the Sydney Royal Easter Show, Hot Cross Buns, footy matches, and of course, a time for the Easter Bunny to visit.

For us dedicated chocoholics, the weeks leading to Easter Sunday morning have already been tempting enough.

Formidable towers of chocolate greet you at the entrance to the local supermarket.

Shelves groaning with all manner of delightful chocolatey treats have adorned our local stores for what seems like weeks, if not months. Chocolate Rabbits, Bilbies, packets of mini and maxi eggs, all artfully presented in colourful foil , set the endorphins, or at least mine, reeling. 

Not to mention the confectionery aisle, with its boxes, blocks and multipacks of chocolate koalas, frogs and bite size chunks of deliciousness. 

Strength is needed, mental strength. 

I divert to the fruit and vegetable area upon entering, avoid the confectionary aisle at all costs, and yet set my hopes on the Easter Bunny delivering. 

At home, Hubby gets great amusement from stacking the pantry with chocolate; Pa’s stash, the grandkids call it. He, unlike me, can stop at eating one or two pieces. I could eat a whole block in a sitting. Don’t even get me started on TimTams!

He doesn’t gain weight. I do.

Much as I fight against it, I get the night nibbles. Not hungry at all, just nibbly. 

And there it is. The stash. In the cupboard just metres away from me. Waiting for me to weaken. And I always do.

But Easter is special. I won’t  be a party pooper. I need to join in the fun. 

Not that I will shamelessly devour handfuls of chocolate for breakfast on Easter Sunday, like my grandsons do, but , if there’s perhaps an egg or two, particularly ones filled with caramel, or a little pack of silken chocolatey balls, or even some crackly , hazelnutty delights, well, I just might temporarily lower my standards.

After all, Easter comes but once a year.