On occasion, it is desirable to reward yourself with chocolate.
If it were obligatory, I’d refuse.
If it were obligatory, I’d find reasons not to eat it.
If it were obligatory, I’d eat celery instead – at a pinch.
After having just scoffed a slab of daughter’s chocolate birthday cake followed by a peppermint Fry’s Cream – because who can drink tea without something? – I’m left mulling over this idiosyncracy.
Try to force me to do something, not a chance in hell.
I’d put the chocolate in the bin first.
Fortunately, no one is forcing me to eat chocolate.
And, bizarrely, because no one is forcing me to eat it, and because I don’t feel obliged to deny myself it either, I don’t feel compelled to scoff it all the time.
I feel, tonight, chocolate, in all its dark splendiferousness, has revealed some wondrous truths about business, politics and the state of the world in general. Not to mention my personal outlook on any notion of diet fads.
Or is that just the cocoa speaking?
I am seriously looking for a diet that incorporates vast quantities of chocolate.
I imagine I will find it if I google, ‘A Woman’s Best Friend’ or ‘Diets Women Die For’.
Somewhere, out there, in this wonderful, wide world some chemist or researcher of some sort has come up with a chocolate diet that, if followed, leaves women svelte-like and minus a chocolate moustache.
I imagine that if it’s a man his misogynistic and sadistic tendencies are causing him to withhold the secret until we have suffered enough.
I imagine that if it’s a woman she’s a bitch of the first order and is cackling away, in a lab lined with Lindt, while sporting a pair of hot pants and a halter top worn braless.
I imagine that if I ever get my hands on either of them I will throttle the life from their skinny bodies until every ounce of chocolate they have consumed is lying in a puddle at their feet.
I imagine I’m not the only one who’s searching for this diet.
Inspiration comes in many guises.