one bar of chocolate

I am tearing the paper off. It’s fancy; it was glued shut at the flap. All $6 worth of chocolate is wrapped in a golden foil.

The brand of the chocolate is adjectives stuck together; color words. The reason is a mystery to me. The chocolate is neither of those colors. It is a rich decadent radiant chocolatey brown.

It has almonds.

I can’t wait.

My mouth is watering. My emotions are screaming for satisfaction. My twisting insides are angry. I could cry, but why? A cute kitten on t.v. is too cute. My boyfriend said “stop poking me” in a way that made me question our entire relationship. Does he really love me? I’m sure he doesn’t. It’s absolutely illogical and absolutely real, in that ridiculous hormonal way. My eyes tear up.

Eat the entire bar. That’s what I’ll do. That’s all I want to do.

There are 30 rectangles of chocolate. 3 x 10

I’m salivating. My tongue is empty. It’s a blank slate. My teeth are aching to chew the giving chocolate. Ingredients: organic raw cane sugar, organic almonds…organic organic organic. I don’t care. Under the ingredients the wrapper warns that if you are allergic to chocolate, then do not eat it. This is ridiculous.

Minimum cocoa solids 34%, with a seductive aroma, this is what the package says.

I hold off on eating the first square. Torture. I break off what I wanted to be a perfect rectangle with a resounding SNAP. I am angry that a triangular piece comes off rather than a rectangular one. Now the piece is too large and I feel like a pig and I shouldn’t stuff it all into my mouth at once but I do anyway. It has a smooth texture and melts evenly on my tongue.

I don’t want to bite pieces off with my front teeth. I don’t want brown chocolate to be visible if I smile suddenly, which is likely as I watch a popular talk show. This is impossible for any man to understand. How can my thigh muscles all the way to my back hurt? Why do I keep popping so many pills?

Crunchy almonds. The taste fills my mouth: Bitter and Sugary. More sugary than I expected. I close my eyes. Almonds stuck between my back teeth. My teeth ache from the sugar. It’s too delicious. I can’t stop.

I am such a cliché girl today. My uterus is twisting inside my body. I’ve described it in the past as “wringing out a dishcloth”. I’m curled up in the foetal position on the couch.

Melted bits of chocolate are left on my fingers as I finish the first row of rectangles. I lick it off, conscious of the disgusting wet sound it makes. I always make such a fuss when my boyfriend noisily licks his fingers, and am ashamed that I am making the same sounds.

The next row is gone in 2 mouthfuls. I’m on a roll now. Isn’t dark chocolate supposed to be healthy? It has something to do with cancer prevention, probably. I don’t care. I think it tastes the way the color red looks.

Red is my favourite color.

My abdomen is distended grotesquely. “Retaining water” feels disgusting. I stop to take a sip of hot organic carbon-cool coffee, fair trade and locally roasted. I don’t care. Some chocolate was still in my mouth and the combination is heavenly.

I can’t get comfortable. When I curl up and push on my lower stomach with both hands my back aches, but if I don’t my insides cramp.

There are whole almonds buried in the chocolate. I force myself to slow down, because I swallowed without chewing. What a waste. I chew slowly, crunching almonds into slivers and allowing the chocolate to melt.

2 rectangles at at a time go into my mouth now. I’m half done. My face feels greasy.

I am wrapped in a blanket. I wipe my fingers on my pyjama bottoms. Who cares. They’re stupid anyway. Kids cartoon characters. I got them for Christmas. Admittedly, they are comfortable but I will only wear them when I’m sure no cable guys or delivery people will be coming to the door.

How is it possible that there are only 2 rectangle rows left? Oh I am guilty of overeating; sentenced to life with a fat roll. Who cares?

I set the chocolate remains onto the arm of the couch. The paper wrapping is still in my lap. I throw it onto the living room floor, disgusted with my own gluttony.

I break up the remaining 6 squares so they’re all individuals, then shovel 3 in my mouth, chewing rapidly, as though I am starving.

In my mouth, between my teeth and the inside of my cheeks there is chocolate. My tongue is coated with a thick layer of sugary saliva.

It’s gone. I thought there was one more rectangle hidden in the folds of foil but I was mistaken. I thought there was one more.

I am pleased with the clarity I possessed last night in the grocery store, when I decided to only buy two. And one for my boyfriend.

Searching through the grocery bags, he laughed and asked if I had been trick-or-treating.

Endorphins is what this feeling is called. My chocolate afterglow.

The empty foil is taunting me. I hate that foil, and throw it on the floor. I should clean that up. I should brush my teeth. My mouth tastes bitter. I should go for a walk.

I sink deeper into my blankets and turn up the volume on the television. Who cares?