Not for Sharing
I’m hiding in the kitchen as I’m writing this. Not because the kids are screaming or I don’t want to be seen. Instead I’m doing what I (and no doubt millions of others) do when I have acquired my favourite chocolate bar; scoffing it alone in peace.
I don’t care how many times the companies put ‘perfect for sharing’ on their oversized monster bars and bags, they know full well that sharing, where chocolate is concerned, most definitely is not the perfect way to enjoy it. Same goes for Doritos, Pringles and any other similarly marketed product. Share? Pah to that. No one really wants to share. Even when they offer.
I dally between two schools of thought on this. One is that it is some kind of slightly repressed guilt-act whereby I am hiding binge eating in some way that pop-psychologists could no doubt attribute to filling some void in my life. This is simply explained and dismissed as a) its only a bloomin’ bar of chocolate and b) everyone does it to c) fill their chocolate void.
The other is that I have fallen hook line and sinker for years of adverts showing a glamorous and impossibly skinny woman sinking into an oversized bath or sofa while breaking off chunks of galaxy on her tod. I am convinced it is in fact the skinny woman who exemplifies mental health issues. If you dress up for your chocolate and eat it in slow motion there is quite clearly something very very wrong with you.
So if you are a secret chocolate snaffler as well, do so in the knowledge that you are in good company. The best company in fact, as I can neither see you or ask for a bit.
Nom Nom Nom!