77% Dark Chocolate: the eternal vice of the feminine middle class, scourge of the yoga set, albatross ’round the neck of the pre-menstruating!
It began February last. I’d always considered myself the milk chocolate sort (it’s easy to get your hands on, cheap, the gateway cocoa — child’s stuff). Sure, I enjoyed darker now and then, at bohemian potlucks and when Special Dark was the only variety left in the Hershey Variety Pack, but I didn’t seek it out.
Eventually I needed something stronger. Began dabbling in 55% with fruit and nuts. Then, one day: 55% — no fruit, no nuts. From there it was an easy slide into the rich, dark ignominy in which I currently wallow.
Now I import a steady flow of the stuff from hand to mouth (…to thighs [am I right, ladies?!]). Its caffeine content keeps me up a night, makes me under-perform at work.
But I won’t quit! I will never quit. It’s, erm, possible I can’t quit.
(Please don’t make me quit!)