You know how when you’re trying to get all healthified and all you should think about is what you should eat that won’t fuck up your new resolve to a healthier plan of existence ? Yup, that. I’m there.
And then in the middle of thinking of healthy crap, those little Thin Mint cookies my son brought over because he loves me and he knows how much I love Thin Mints but was unaware that I recently and voluntarily put them on a not-eating-ever-again-or-at-least-until-I-lose-the-amount-of-weight-I have-to list, begin the siren call of their evil laden, fat maker calories and lure me to the kitchen counter. I stare at the unopened, cellophane encased stack and pray that by some miracle, thinking about eating chocolate, remembering the orgasmic taste, is as good as cramming it down my greedy throat. Yup. Now I’m there.
And why are they called Thin Mints when they should be called Thin Addictive Fat Makers.
Chocolate is and will always high on my lists of things that will be my downfall. There’s a long list of those types of things, but chocolate is near the top. Not that I eat it 24/7, or anything like that, but I do enjoy it when I do eat it. REALLY enjoy it. The taste, the feel of it as it melts in my mouth… it’s downright spiritual. And usually I don’t like to dilute the chocolate taste with mint, but there is something about a thin mint that goes against my chocolate purity gene and makes for a symphony in my mouth I just can’t deny.
And, today is testing my moral resolve.
Satan, thy name is Thin Mint! Pray for me…all ye chocolate-eating sinners.
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