Chocolate, I think I love you

Yesterday, I found two Godiva chocolate bars as I was going to put in my kids’ Christmas stockings.  I ate them like Scarlett O’Hara, filthy from the war, mauled that dusty radish on Tara.

I probably have a slight addiction.

I walked into a candy shop and the customers in the store looked up at me, in unison, like animals sensing a predator.  They clutched their selections and scurried to the cash register.  The candy clerk became super enthusiastic, determined to make me feel like the most important person in the entire mall.  When the manager of the store saw me, his eyeballs rolled back and became dollar signs like Uncle Scrooge McDuck.

Large women have this affect on chocolate vendors. 

Trying to be a reformed choco-holic, I went to a sporting goods store looking for some new exercise gear.  On the cashier’s counter was a display of extra-long Snickers, next to them Butterfingers large enough to be labeled Butterfeet. 

“That’s gotta be one of those “Power Bars” with asparagus, bark and antler powder in it, right?”

“Nope, they’re just big candy bars.”

“Ring it up”

Blast you, Chocolate, for lurking in unlikely places!

If Clarence, the “It’s a Wonderful Life” angel would indulge me one of those life without something moments, I think my life minus chocolate would be very different.  But would life really be worth living?

Are there other chocolate consumers out there who get woozy when they pass a chocolate donut or hear, “Buy me, you know you want to” whispering voices when they are standing next to a Ghirardelli brownie display?  If so, we must unite and harness this dark power to coexist with candy everywhere.

But let’s wait until after Valentines Day.