I have food issues. Specifically, I love food
– and it loves me so very much that it attaches itself to my
rather large derriere and stays around forever. I have come to
terms with this. And I decided long ago that I would rather have a
big butt than bored taste buds.
I have food issues. Specifically, I love food – and it loves me so very much that it attaches itself to my rather large derriere and stays around forever. I have come to terms with this. And I decided long ago that I would rather have a big butt than bored taste buds.

But truthfully, this stinks. I mean, why is it that carrots don’t taste like jelly beans? If they did, wouldn’t everyone be skinny? We’d be popping those baby carrots all day long. We wouldn’t even need ranch dressing smothered all over them to make them taste yummy. We’d eat plain old carrots, and there would be no need for jeans with stretchable waistbands.

And why doesn’t a broiled chicken breast taste like steak? Heck, if it tasted like anything other than a slab of broiled chicken, I’d eat it twice a day. And if it managed to taste like a chile rellano, I’d eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

But plain broiled chicken breast tastes like what it is, and that’s why my jeans have stretchable waistbands.

And don’t even get me started on chocolate. I cannot live without it. I must eat chocolate at least once a day – sometimes more, depending on how difficult Junior’s math homework is that afternoon. Frankly, I don’t know how people can get through long division and fractions without a Kit-Kat or two – or more.

It gets worse. Truthfully, chocolate is my one true love (other than my family, of course). But you know how people always ask what you would take from a burning house, and everyone always says stuff like, “my loved ones,” “my pictures,” or even, “my homeowner’s policy?” Not me. I’d take my stash of chocolate that I keep hidden in the … well, I’m not going to say. But it is well-hidden.

I love chocolate. I love it a lot, and I have the jeans size to prove it. I don’t even care how old the chocolate is. If I’m desperate, I’ll eat a chocolate egg from Easter 1997.

But you know, chocolate isn’t exactly a health food. I mean, eating a pound of chocolate or a pound of those icky baby carrots doesn’t exactly do the same thing for you.

Until now.

That’s right, Mars, Inc. has come up with a new chocolate called CocoaVia that is filled with healthy stuff. I don’t know about you, but when I read that news, my taste buds started doing the happy dance.

It seems that CocoaVia is made from a dark chocolate – my favorite – that is just bursting with something called flavonals. Turns out that flavonals have blood-thinning affects similar to aspirin, and they may lower blood pressure.

The news about CocoaVia gets even better. In addition to that flavonal stuff, Mars has also injected vitamins and soy into the chocolate, so every single time I eat it I’m lowering my cholesterol and getting my one-a-day.

Could there be a better product? I don’t think so. I mean, eating chocolate that’s good for you is like a dream come true. It’s like finding the perfect pair of shoes for half-price. It’s like finding a hairdresser who understands your hair and doesn’t make you look like an electrocuted monkey when you ask for a haircut that’s a bit “different.” It’s like surviving a tax audit and finding out that the IRS actually owes YOU money.

It’s perfect.

Well, maybe not. I mean, to be truly perfect, it would get rid of cellulite as well. And, as it turns out, not only does CocoaVia not zap the fatty stuff from thighs, it can actually enlarge them. Tragically, the perfect chocolate isn’t calorie-free. And that makes it not so perfect.

Because, apparently, even though the company claims CocoaVia is healthy, a lot of people with the word “doctor” in front of their names say it just isn’t. In fact, they say that CocoaVia is just chocolate with some vitamins in it. And they recommend that people with large butts like mine eat more carrot sticks and broiled chicken breasts if we want to lower our weight and cholesterol and all that stuff.

But you know, that’s OK. At least I can still dream of the perfect chocolate. And no matter what, I’m not going to give up eating it. But I guess those jeans with the stretch waistbands won’t be leaving my closet anytime soon.

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