That Office Fudge Isn't Doing Any Body Any Favors

We all have a colleague at work whose popularity is due largely to the candy dish on her desk. Co-workers stop by for the latest office gossip and leave with a handful of M&Ms. If they're smart, they figure out that both of them are best avoided.

But this time of year, the candy lady is harmless compared to her evil cousin, the holiday fudge maker. She's the office ho Jezebel who makes a big batch of fudge and leaves it in the break room on a holly rimmed plate to tempt all who enter.

As I type, that plate of fudge may still be lying in wait in my office break room. It was there all day yesterday, flirting with me each time I stopped in to pick up a colored copy or check my mail folder. "You know you want me," she purred, like a young Bette Davis who knows she's hot.

The trouble is, I wouldn't be satisfied with just a fling. I'd take a smallish sized piece, go back to my desk and then all I'd be thinking about is finding another excuse to go back to the break room to get some more. Like the bad girl from the movies, I'd know she spelled trouble, but I couldn't get enough.

It's possible the person who made the fudge has perfect self control like that annoying sensible friend who can eat in moderation and complains she's full after eating half a meatball. Maybe she just can't fathom that she's triggering other people's carb addictions with that irresistible combination of sugar, fat and salt that goes by such an innocent the sounding name. Fudge.

And though her co-workers may be happy for the brief moment that chocolatey piece of heaven is in their mouth, for most of the day they will feel sluggish and irritable, because eating "foods" with such high concentrations of sugar causes blood sugar to soar and cells to cry out, "Enough already!"

As for me, I knew I could not eat just one piece of fudge. So each time I went into the break room I looked at the pretty plate as if it contained fascinating artifacts instead of fudge. Fortunately, I was prepared and could sublimate my desire with a couple of squares of dark chocolate that I keep in my desk drawer for just such emergencies.

Oh, and for the spelling cops out there, I deliberately misspelled "anybody" as "any body" in the title of this blog post. Because it's the body that pays the price for that ephemeral moment of fudgey bliss long after the last taste lingers on the tongue.

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