Recently I’ve experienced some emotional disturbance. Loved ones in and out of your life- you know how it is.
There’s something about raw cookie dough that makes it all better. Now I’m no fool: I know just how detrimental to my lactose-intolerant health that sweet piece of heaven is. I need only mention the risk of Salmonella poisoning alone to keep most from this dessert and if I do mention it, know that it stems from my gluttonous instinct to keep as much for myself as possible as I am probably not concerned with your health in the least.
Mostly because I’m sure many people out there can eat as much raw cookie dough as their Pillsbury-loving hearts desire. Sadly I am not one of them. I know what happens to me when I eat it because it happens every time. With every episode of weakness, the painfully uncomfortable bloating shortly follows along with other symptoms we won’t name. This is the part where my body lets me “have it”. Physical indications of the retribution immediately entail inactivity and a strict diet of bland foods and plenty of hydration.
Yet each time I seem to experience what psychologists call the “delusion of reprieve”: I hold out hope for a last-minute escape from my doom. This time, it’ll be different…It’s never different. Yet I continue to eat the raw cookie dough. Why willingly induce such disgusting physical maladies? When it comes to the dough, I choose yes every time. In fact, I choose yes and then follow it with a “YOLO, my bitches!”
Why so self-destructive?
Could it be the texture? I am a sucker for texture… and cookie dough’s texture is very teasing. You think it’s soft at the initial bite but then you’re in for a surprise because just as you are savoring the cushy yet sugary crunchiness of the dough, your chops soon discover little balls of orgasms otherwise known as chocolate chips and as you accomplish masticating them, you have the two combining forces, working together to cause multiple explosions as your taste buds are vulnerably defeated and become putty in your mouth. Nothing can taste good after having cookie dough, except maybe a glass of milk and by this time I am too drunk with gustatory bliss to consider opting for soy milk.
This transcendental episode costed me two days of unrelenting discomfort and inconvenience. But would I do it all over again?
You betcha.