Be careful what you wish for...

I heart chocolate.
I love its sweet smell, its rich texture, and most of all, its indescribably marvelous flavor. Plus, all those lovey brain chemicals it induces. Mmmmmm.

To paraphrase George Costanza, I would live in chocolate if it were socially acceptable. I want to be ensconced in chocolate.*

When Miss Cheese recently asked me what food I would choose if I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life, my answer was chocolate. (Hers was cheese, natch.)

When I discovered that whole gluten intolerance issue last year, I remember saying to myself, "Thank god, at least I can still have chocolate." (And most alcohol, but that's another story)

All you have to do is look at my chunky self, and you can just tell that I am a chocolate lover. And I have sometimes joked that perhaps the best thing that could happen to me would be to develop an allergic reaction to this heavenly substance.

Um. Yeah.
I've noticed that the last few times I've had chocolate, I've felt pretty awful afterwards. No, not in that girly, guilty, "oh my god, I shouldn't have had that, I'm so chunky, I'm so bad blah blah blah" kind of way.
More in that, "oh my god, I feel seriously nauseous and I would feel so much better if I could just puke" kind of way.

The horror. Oh, the horror.


*george wanted to drape himself in velvet. i love velvet too. velvet and chocolate. mmmm.