My Catholic Battle with a Chocolate Cookie
Can a month without Oreos make an atheist second guess her views on religion?
The container sat on the marble countertop in all its blue glory, glistening under the overhead kitchen lights. The pull tab was already curled up at the side, as if daring me to open it more. Under that plastic lining sat a row full of cookies, and not just any cookies: rich, crunchy cookies that housed a double serving of white cream in the middle. They hadn’t been touched in almost 24 hours, a feat that I considered miraculous given the circumstances.
As I walked over to the counter I felt as if I was about to do something I knew I shouldn’t. Kind of like when you’re at bar and are one more drink away from projectile vomiting, but you buy another round anyway. YOLO, right?
I approached the container. The conversation began to play out in my head, like a literal devil and angel were sitting on my shoulders.
Maybe you should just throw them out.
No! They cost four bucks and that’s kind of expensive in the grand scheme of things.
You can’t eat them anyway.
Who is going to find out if I just eat one? Jesus isn’t really always watching is he?
At that very moment, I knew what every Catholic in the nation felt. It was more than frustration. It was pure agony.
The plan seemed simple at first. Abiding by the rules of Lent really couldn’t be that hard, right? All I had to do was cut a tiny bit of food from my diet for a mere 30 days.
The concept of Lent has always been foreign to me, not only in practice, but also purpose. As someone who grew up in a household that did not practice Catholicism, or any other religion for that matter, I always assumed people choose just not to eat something just for the fun of it, or as a diet or cleanse. So, I decide to do some research.
During a 40 day span that begins after Ash Wednesday and ends just before Good Friday, Catholics must sacrifice meat on Fridays as well as something of their choosing on all days except Sunday. The purpose of Lent is not to make oneself go crazy by eliminating a certain food or activity for a little over a month, but rather to please God by offering a sacrifice. For my sacrifice, I would quit the late night Oreo snacking all days except Sunday. I will admit that I bent the rules and decided to skip the sparing meat on Friday’s part, just because I thought that might be too much for my body to handle.
I grew up in Lisbon, N.Y., a small town that was home to mostly Wesleyan and Presbyterian churches. In high school, the start of spring was always met with Catholic friends exchanging stories of how hard it was not to eat chocolate. This conversation usually happened while these same friends casually snacked on chocolate chip granola bars. Even worse, they would devour egg salad sandwiches on Fridays while I godlessly munched on turkey or ham. Needless to say, I started bringing salad for lunch.
My doubts about Lent were heightened a few years later as I watched my manager “accidentally” eat a roast beef sub on a Friday when he was supposed to be eating tuna fish. This accidental placement of cold cuts on bread seemed to happen almost every week. All the while, tuna fish sales sky rocketed thanks to our Catholic customers. Unless you’ve worked in a sub shop, you have no idea how many weird dressing combinations people come up with to put on tuna. We’re talking blue cheese and honey mustard, at the same time.
Unless you’ve worked in a sub shop, you have no idea how many weird dressing combinations people come up with to put on tuna.
Damned sandwiches aside, I wanted to learn more about what is one of the oldest Catholic practices. So I set out to become one with the Catholics and partake in their period of sacrifice.
According to Christianity Today, the top five most popular things to give up for Lent in 2013 were Twitter, chocolate, swearing, alcohol and soda. Since I am not a huge Twitter user, don’t swear or drink much besides water, I gave up chocolate.
I’m not a huge fan of candy bars or cupcakes, but chocolate cookies are a completely different story. I eat at least five or six Oreos a night. In other words, if I don’t leave the grocery store with a new package, my week has been ruined. Could I really go a month without those delicious chocolate cookies? Challenge accepted.
I started on a Friday, February 12th to be exact. There was no rhyme or reason to why I choose this day, but I like to think it was the power of Christ that compelled me. Or maybe that was just my wannabe Catholic talking.
At first, I was able to chat about this small change in my diet. But, give or take a few days into week two and I was certain I knew how it feels to be a heroin addict in detox.
It was as though every aspect of my nightly ritual had changed. No more rewarding myself with chocolate after my homework. No more daily doses of dairy to wash down the cookies. (Side note: if you’re one of those dunk-the-Oreo-in-milk as you eat it people, then you’re doing it wrong.)
I believe it was around day 15 that I started to go crazy. Not quite twitching-in-the-fetal-position crazy, but it almost got to that point. But, the hardest part was the weekly grocery store visits. Never have I felt so betrayed by my own mind.
Anyone who is an avid Oreo eater knows you can buy almost any kind of cookie and flavored cream mix that your heart desires, but only if you visit the right store. In my 21 years of experience, Wal-Mart seems to have the best selection. So, did I decide to shop elsewhere for a month to make passing by the cookie aisle less painful? The answer to that question is a big fat nope.
Before I knew it, the angel and devil were back.
Is this breaking the rules?
No. That kind of cookie isn’t made of chocolate.
But, they’re still Oreos…
Unless I’m awfully color blind, those cookies are yellow, not brown.
Who knew the Golden Oreos could be such trouble makers. The cookies clearly aren’t made of chocolate like the originals, but they were still branded as an Oreo. I seemed to have encountered a gray area.
At first, I placed the not-so-familiar yellow package in the cart, glancing down at it with a longing expression for what seemed like every 10 seconds. Was this considered cheating? Technically no, because the package did not contain little chocolate sandwich cookies, but I still felt wrong. It was not until I was standing at the self-checkout line that I decided to remove the tempting package from my cart and march forward. Was this what it felt like to be a real life Catholic?
I consider that Great Grocery Store Debacle my turning point. So what if I couldn’t eat Oreos? All the calories I was saving from devouring half a row each night actually made me feel like I was more in control of my body. Don’t call me a newborn Christian just yet, but this Lent thing was starting to make sense.
Before I started this adventure a friend told me that giving up something for Lent helps you realize that you don’t need that item all the time once the 40-day period is over. I didn’t realize it at first, but he was right. Lent isn’t suppose to be stressful, it’s suppose to be rewarding. Although it was terribly difficult at first, I never once cracked. The unopened package of Oreos that I bought a month ago still sits half full inside the kitchen cabinet: a feat I am most proud of. Even better, I now feel that I can live to see another day if I go to bed without Oreo consumption.
I wouldn't consider myself a changed woman, but who knows, maybe now I’ll be a little bit more understanding with those blue cheese and honey mustard on tuna fish customers at work.