On occasion, it is desirable to reward yourself with chocolate.
Not obligatory.
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?
scottishmomus 