T'was the day after Christmas

T’was the day after Christmas and all through the house
Gifts were scattered - a book, a toy, a blouse
The socks that were hung by the chimney with care
Are gone now as if they’d never been there

The family was here, there are telltale signs
Wrapping paper everywhere with Christmas designs
Some gifts were great ones, some not so much
Trinkets, knick-knacks, re-gifts and such

When the family wakes up, there’ll be such a clatter
But the day after Christmas it just won’t matter
They’ll stumble to the living room and look at the tree
But without all the presents it’s not much to see

Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen
Can start on the sleigh, it needs some fixin’
For next year will be here before they know it
And with so much to give, they don’t want to blow it

For breakfast there’s always cookies and cake
Leftovers are ready, we don’t have to bake
We’ll just stuff our faces like the holiday’s not over
Then after we’ll sit and feel bad about ourselves and wish we hadn’t and wonder what the hell we were thinking.

Doesn't matter if it's black or white

There are two truths here. Yes, I'm allergic to chocolate. And no, it doesn't stop me from having it.

Usually.

It's not like I go into shock, or my throat closes, or I break out in a hideous, angry red rash (that hasn't happened since I dated Susie Harding in high school, and I'm pretty sure chocolate had nothing to do with it). Anyway, if that happened every time I'd never have it. But fortunately, my reaction is on the mild side. All that happens is I sneeze and get stuffed up for a couple of days.

So the decision I'm faced with is how important is quality breathing versus the chocolate.

What I usually wind up deciding is that it's a small price to pay, especially for the good stuff - which is what I try to limit myself to. After all there's no sense in going through it for a Tootsie Roll or a Hershey Bar. Now Milky Way, that's another story.

My friends who know this about me somehow always seem to conveniently forget it until they're holding a plate with a thick slice of chocolate cake right in front of my face. Then, just as the rich fragrance of the chocolate reaches me, they snap it away, saying, "Oh, I forgot. You're allergic." My reply, in my head, is, "Oh, I forgot. You're an a#%&*(@."

You'd think since I've had to involuntarily take chocolate off my plate that I'd be thinner. But sadly there's no shortage of substitutes to satisfy my sweet tooth.

Not too long ago I read that if you keep exposing yourself to the thing you're allergic to, eventually you build an immunity to it.

I don't know if that's true. But I'm definitely willing to find out.