Oh, you little dickens. Look what you've gone and done. You've turned me into one of those cougar women, chowing down on the smaller and more helpless.
How the hell did you get in my grocery cart, anyway? Did you grow legs?
First I was in love with that Extra Large Hershey's Symphony, which was bad enough, and now I've gone and become one of those older women preying on the young. Come here, little chocolate. Come on over and see what it is a mature lady has for you, yes? I've got it going, you young 'un, you. Let me show you exactly how it works, and who is boss.
You are the boss, baby. You are chocolate. You are milk chocolate and you are smooth and creamy. You are instant gratification. You are me at the age of seventeen, when I could wiggle my butt and make the boys pant without even knowing it. That age when I could toss out a "come hither" look and wait for the wolf whistle. Yeah, that's who you are. You think you're the king, don't you, baby.
But I'm the older woman in this relationship. I'm the adult, don't you forget it. So get your little ass out of my grocery cart next time I'm in the store. Stop wolf whistling at me, 'cause I ain't having none of it, not me. I am a married woman with a great big behind and I aim to put a stop to that.
And I can't put a stop to that with you hangin' on my every word, now can I? I can't make that big butt disappear when you keep calling out my name, still whispering in my ear every darn time I enter the supermarket. Stop that singing, do you hear me? I am old enough to know better and I demand that you stop that siren song.
No more wiggling that little edge of paper, no more hiding that "220 calories" mark behind some other piece of candy. You show yourself for what you are, you little flirt. Yeah, don't tell me you like me big and round. I don't want to hear that talk, that's for somebody else with a grocery cart. You turn around now, and go on back home to that Hershey's Symphony bar. He'll tell you. I gave him up for good.
You're going next. Yes, you are. I said, yes you are. You heard me. Go on, now. Go. I want to see your behind heading out toward that trash can.
Don't whimper at me. I don't want to see those chocolate puppy dog eyes. Turn around now. Stop whining.
Well, ok. Maybe you can stay overnight. Just this once.