As a result I've been saying goodbye to all my favorite foods before I spend six months sucking sustenance through a straw and never consuming most of them again. I am not pigging out or overeating; I am just saying goodbye to some friends who've gotten me through, while killing me slowly, of course. I usually avoid these foods at all costs. Seeking them out is a strange, but freeing experience.
My food porn is not everyone's. I like a lot of foodie politically incorrect stuff like boxed mac n cheese. But it's my farewell party. Enter at your own risk, but feel free to argue with me in the comments if you just can't stand my version of gustatory gusto.
My friend Lisa calls this fat girl porn. So don't read this if you're on a diet as I wouldn't want to be responsible for the consequences.
Lately I am on a hot chocolate retrospective. It must be made with milk, people, not water. But other than that, I'm not much of a purist about stirring up cocoa on the stove. Instant works perfectly, especally with the addition of lots of real whipped cream. It's like drinking liquid silk. Chocolate flavored.
Perfect hot chocolate sleeps beneath a layer of cream, so every time I tip my unapolgetically Christmassy mug, steaming cocoa lava sneaks out from under the sweet, sweet cream, stinging my tongue while the top layer soothes with coolness. Hot and cold, chocolate and vanilla, darkness and light. It pleasures you with warmth: hands, lips, teeth, tongue. Sex, in a cup.
The smell of the steam is every snow day you ever had as a kid, warm clothes fresh from the dryer, fuzzy socks when your feet are cold.
I drink it halfway down till the foam is gone, and then I go to the fridge for more whipped sin. It's the only way to be sure I get the optimum experience all the way through. I sip it without guilt, without apology, without all the hangups I've had my whole life about any fattening food. Then I look at the chocolate sludge left in the bottom and smile...
