CHOCOLATE DIPPIN MADNESS!

Chocolate.


What words race through your mind when that word is spoken or thought?
For me? The word is: Addiction.



It’s a science really. When you combine chocolate + Christmas you get = Extra pounds to insulate your booty, hips, and thighs.



Oh, the holidays.



I am really going to try and watch my weight this year. I wouldn’t want those extra pounds sneaking up on me like it did with my daughter…

Because then, I would have to lose the weight.

*Sigh.* If only it were that easy….

But what is Christmas without chocolate?
"Insanity," you say.

Exactly. You read my mind. (Props to blogger chicks.)

I LOVE to dip cookies (chocolate chip of course!) in chocolate. Shortbread cookies are REALLY addictive—er—I mean good too. :)

Everyone should know by now that I’m an addict. Of cookies, that is. And no, I don’t seek counseling. I don’t have a problem. Blah, blah, blah….

(If I start snorting chocolate chips up my nose—then you can get worried. And that would hurt.)

So, this is the time of year when my family does the traditional Christmas party. Everyone’s assignment is to bring cookies for a cookie exchange. This is Christmas! I don’t want to bring an ordinary cookie. Even chocolate chip cookies need to be spruced up a bit—it just isn’t good enough without embellishments—not for a Christmas party.

But I want you to know, I have matured this year. (I hear a few snickers out there—get your mind out of the gutter.) I MEAN—I have matured past my chocolate chip cookie passion and made shortbread cookies instead.

*AUDIBILE GASP OF SHOCK CRASHING ACROSS CYBERSPACE INSERTED HERE*

What, no chocolate you say? Foul! Yeah, well, hold on, chocolate connoisseurs...

BEFORE:

AFTER:

BADDA BING!!! BADDA BOOM!!

Which cookie would you rather eat, mmmm?

I call dibbs. The latter has my name on it—

DON’T TOUCH IT.

Come on, who doesn’t totally relate to my addiction? I’m sure it’s like the entire female race! Anyhoo—the process of chocolate dipping is a killer. Not physically—heavens no, but murderous to my ‘Mama’s Booty’. I could have opted not to dip cookies in the chocolate—but come on, I couldn’t let myself down.

Or my treadmill for that matter….

Um…………when you stand over a warm pot of melted chocolate and you’ve eaten like a bizillion shortbread cookies while you’re dipping them and hoping you’ll somehow stop the frenzy and get a grip as you seek for control—NOTE: it doesn’t come.

Crazy things happen when you’re inhaling all those chocolaty fumes….

Maybe it’s just me…….but I think my kids inherited the chocolate addiction gene?

I’m thinking Christmas cards…?

HMMMMM.................