Chocolate: My Viagra in a Tempting Foil Wrapper

I can’t think of any crisis in my life that hasn’t been improved with chocolate.

For the same reason we love chocolate, there are things we never want product developers to come up with, thinking, as they do, that it’s a sure way to sell us their merchandise. Like chocolate scented wallpaper. If I was surrounded by the aroma of freshly baked, chocolate chip cookies all day, I’d gain ten pounds for sure.  I don’t want anyone making the adhesive on envelopes chocolate-flavored—can you imagine the papercuts?—or spraying the inside of my car with eau de chocolate to replace the “new car smell.” The last thing I need is a constant subliminal urge to drive into Micky D’s for a chocolate shake. And we never—ever—-want to buy a package of chocolate-flavored condoms. I don’t care how advanced modern chemistry is: there’s no way you’re going to make latex taste like a fudge brownie. This would be an affront to women everywhere for whom chocolate is a sacred element, right along side wind, fire, water and air. It’s our respite in a crazy world. Our little bit of luxury in a belt-tightening economy. Chocolate, simply put, is the antidote to a life run on estrogen.

Really. To whoever makes these kind of decisions, listen up: don’t mess with chocolate. One hundred and sixty million post-menopausal women will hunt you down.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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