Yesterday I discovered something more rare than a Puerto Rican yeti. I discovered I know someone who doesn’t like the taste of chocolate. I know! My first reaction was “Wow, that would come in handy. I wish I didn’t like chocolate!” It’s so much easier to resist temptation when there actually isn’t any temptation to resist. People would gasp in amazement at me as I attended birthday parties and never had any chocolate cake, when I was able to resist the contents of entire Christmas stockings, as I took one look at a Hostess Cupcake and said “No, thanks.” I would be like a diet superhero. I’d probably even be thin enough to look good in a spandex costume.
But as I thought about it more, I started to rethink the issue. (WARNING: Do not read the rest of this paragraph if you have not yet eaten lunch. If you disregard this warning, the owner of this blog is not responsible for your vending machine fees.) Would I really want to rid my life of the pleasure of sucking on a fudgsicle? Of slurping out the creamy, center of a chocolate-covered cherry and then chomping on it’s shell? Of popping a Hershey’s kiss on my tongue and letting it dissolve into a muddy puddle of delight?
I think not. It would be like not enjoying sex. Sure, you don’t have to worry about the STDs, but do you really want a life without orgasms? Surely they’ll develop a cure for AIDS eventually. Enjoying food can lead you to overindulge, but getting rid of the pleasure all together would cut out such a great part of life. What’s the point of living if you can’t enjoy life?
So, no thank you. I’m glad I like chocolate. While it has sometimes led me to Christmas Eve Reese’s Pieces binges, I’d rather wrestle with this demon for the rest of my life than obliterate it completely. The wrestling will burn calories, right?
