Breaking Up is Hard to Do

I see how you lie there, waiting for me. Your sweetness beckons me like the cries of seagulls bring forth the mermaids. You make my mouth water as I think of you, how your thickness will taste on my tongue, how the goodness that spills from you will make me feel.

That sugar high when the chocolatey goodness that is a Hershey Symphony bar oozes from the heat of me, and then ventures down my throat to my stomach. How that bite of cocoa lights up the inner joy of brain, giving me a mild sensation of a joyously glorious high.

O Chocolate Bar! O Milky Way Midnight! O Three Musketeers! O Nestle's chocolate chip cookies, O Keebler Fudge Stripes! You must all go away, leave me now, whilst I sit alone here with my celery and green beans.

Apparently, you have to eat healthy more than once to get in shape. This is cruel and unfair.

You, O chocolate, are as bountiful as the sea, filling aisles at the supermarket, appearing even in the healthy food section. My love for you is deep, for the more of you I eat, the more I crave, the desire overcoming good sense and all thoughts of nutrition. I hear your siren call the moment I step into the store - deny it not! You sing loud and long, trilling and thrilling me with your song, all the while whispering, "Come eat me, my love."

And eat you I have, not measuring or caring if the bites end up on my hips or make my triglycerides raise to uncountable levels. How can I resist you, my sugary desire? How can I break myself of the need for you at 2 p.m. in the afternoons, when the rest of the world is off dancing whilst I sit home alone?

I cannot abide you in small bites. I must have you all, every M&M, until the bag is empty. Only you, O Chocolate - only you make me do this and act in such an irrational manner. No other whispers to me, or persuades me to indulge in that which I should not. Only you, you feckless and irresponsible dark drug of chocolate covered cherries - only you drive me to despair when you're not in the house.

So there will be no small withdrawal. No small Kisses, no occasional delight. I'm sorry it must be this way, my dear, but we must not see one another again, not for years. Perhaps I will greet you at a cousin's wedding, and hope by then that a small taste of your deliciousness will not render me unconscious, if enough time has passed. For if my lips touch you, you will think I still care, and that caring I must force into submission, until I crave salads, and salads alone. I will not still care, I will not.

So farewell, my sweet delicacy, my delight, my afternoon bite of lust. I free you and fling you from my thoughts and my brain. You are gone now from my house, dear and wonderful treat, and I shall shed tears at the loss of you and the joy you once brought.

Now someone bring me a carrot.