My Love For Dove

Dove's Milk Chocolate Promises are a weakness of mine. Their Promise brand is perpetuated by the quotes and fortunes written in cursive on the inside of the wrapper. These appropriately named candies are full of promises simply by the nature of being, wrapper or not. They promise to expand my waistline. Two handfuls of them promise to replace a nutritious meal. A bag, with mouth wide open, promises to call for me late at night while I'm trying to sleep. I swear I hear them.

I'm much stronger now than I once was. I've learned to resist the urges that are typical of a Dove chocolate addiction. I've reduced my weekly intake from 2 bags to less than 1/4. I still keep two bags in the kitchen cabinet and a top secret emergency bag in my drawer at work, however I often forget that they are there.

Tonight, I was driving home and getting quite hungry as I sat in traffic. The apple didn't cut it and the pretzels were long gone. I suddenly remembered that I had a bag of Dove Promises in my bag. They are ultimately destined to replace the empty bag in my desk drawer at work, but I forgot to transfer the bounty this afternoon. I quickly unzipped the outer pocket of my computer bag, tore open the Dove chocolate bag, and grabbed one of those suckers. I was in a trance, mesmerized by the blue metallic wrapper and the promise of chocolate heaven that lay within. Yet, I was still able to appreciate the healthy choice to take only one. I was proud of my recent progress in fighting the addiction. To eat one and stop there has been a great milestone in the quest to conquer my inner chocoholic. 

While savoring my chocolate surprise, I read the inside of the wrapper and was pleased with it's message. It simply stated:

Create Your Own Peace.

With that, I ate seven more.

Chocolate Covered Pretzels

Dear Tyler,

Please accept this note written with genuine sincerity.  I always knew that we were meant to be friends, however your recent displays of affection have overwhelmed me with gratitude.  

I will never forget that when we first met, you saw my heart.  However, your interest in me has only increased since I broke an arm and occasionally look like the letter J or a deformed P. When I come to you as a tear drop, you are kind enough not to draw attention to it when others are around. And you seemed extremely happy to see me when I came to you after they dumped chocolate all over me and tossed me in a bag with a bunch of rejects. I'll never forget your uncontrollable expressions of joy.

I'm damaged goods. I'm sometimes called a "second".  I've even been labeled "hurt", which truly reflects how I'm feeling these days.  Even when things seem to be going well, I'm almost always removed from my peer group and deemed worthless.  Yet, you continue to devour my imperfections.  You light up when I'm in the room and you savor every moment we have together.  Thanks again. You're such a sweet-tooth.

Yours Truly,

"Hurt" Chocolate Covered Pretzels

p.s. I won't tell anyone about our late night rendezvous in the kitchen. ;)