Strength is the capacity to break a chocolate bar into four pieces with your bare hands – and then eat just one of the pieces.
Oh Judith, why did you say that? Did you have to go there?
I thought strength meant lifting a 40 pound bag of kitty litter or firmly ending a relationship or parents breathing “no” to the kids (and meaning it) or the ability to make important financial decisions.
Am I somewhat strong if I break the chocolate bar in four pieces and eat two?
Am I a little strong if I leave one piece?
Am I weak if I break the most-delicious-ever dark chocolate bar in fourths and eat it all?
No, Judith, I say there is no weakness in the amount of velvety dark goodness in one’s stomach. Chocolate is goodness for the soul, for peace, for the taste of what it feels like to be in heaven. Chocolate is the naivety of a five year old, face smudged with a melted Kit Kat bar at the fair, and it is the delight of an adult, faced smudged with the king-sized Kit Kat bar at the movie theatre. Chocolate is love in Oreos, passion in double fudge brownies, fire in cayenne cinnamon chocolate truffles.
Chocolate is the food of the gods, of Aztecs and Mayans, who were strong people. Or perhaps they were not if they ate the entire chocolate bar. Were the Aztecs weak from drinking bitter chocolate beverages and using cocoa beans as currency? Yes? I think not!
Judith, my dear, I say this to you: “I shall not be weak, no matter how many pieces of chocolate I eat at one time. It may be one piece, it may be two, it may be half of a Hershey’s chocolate cake. I shall be strong. My bicep will flex when I pick up that truffle. I will consider it a workout when I lift the chocolate-filled fork to my lips. I will aerobicise when I run out to the kitchen for the last pieces of sea-salted, almond-filled, 72% dark chocolate.”
I do not feel weak, Judith. Weakness is not in resistance.
Strength is in the revel and rejoice and love of anything chocolate.
(*sticking a chocolate-tinged tongue out at you, Judith*) :-p