Fifty Shades of Nutella
2 mins read

Fifty Shades of Nutella

I’m standing at the kitchen counter about to start dinner.  I open the cabinet to round up the ingredients for this evening’s meal and I see it, that seemingly innocent white-lidded jar, beckoning my attention. 

I look away and continue gathering my supplies, but its call is too great to ignore.  I remove the Nutella from the cabinet and slowly twist off its lid.  I open the drawer below and remove a spoon. 

I put the jar on the counter and hold it in place with one hand as I dip the spoon into the jar with the other, its contents yielding against the touch of the stainless steel. 

I raise the spoon to my lips, closing my eyes and inhaling its familiar, delicate fragrance.  As it finds its way into my mouth, this intoxicating concoction slides off the spoon and onto my tongue, enveloping it like a silky blanket, the hint of hazelnut providing the perfect counterpoint to the smooth, velvety chocolate. 

I open my eyes and, staring into the cabinet, inspiration strikes – dare I take out the peanut butter?  My taste buds shiver at the thought.  No, I decide as my inner goddess pouts, that’s too much for now.  “Perhaps another time”, I can almost hear the peanut butter grinning salaciously.  I plunge the spoon into the jar again and again, greedily devouring the Nutella like a…

A small voice shakes me out of my reverie.  “Is dinner almost ready?” my son calls out from the living room.  I look down sheepishly at the jar and realize I’ve just consumed 600 calories worth of Nutella and we haven’t even had dinner yet. 

I put the jar down and knot my fingers on the counter, chastising myself for my loss of control.  As I bite my lower lip, my subconscious smirks at me over her half-moon specs and clucks “A moment on the lips, no matter how sweet, a lifetime on the hips.”

I roll my eyes at her and angrily throw the spoon into the sink.  I shove the jar back in the cabinet, vowing to never lose control like that again (at least until the next time I open the cabinet).  Oh Nutella, you are a cruel master. . .

 

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