Chocolate

chocolate

I am supposed to like chocolate. It’s like PMS or bad chick flicks—part of the essence of womanhood. But these days, I can’t even smell the stuff without getting nauseous. No, I’m not pregnant. I might have ODed on the substance as a child.

Chocolate is like a female crutch: for celebration, for depression, for daily indulgences. It’s a staple for holidays like V-Day and Christmas. It bothers me almost every year. I’m surrounded by hot chocolate or chocolate chip cookies or flourless chocolate cake or little chocolate coins. Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate! But clearly we haven’t binged enough, because along comes Easter with its chocolate bunnies. Yelch.

And don’t get me started on chocolate martinis. That’s just ruining gin.

Andrea

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s