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Title: A dilemma

by Hazel from West Sussex | in writing, fiction

It goes like this:

A woman sat on a bench opposite a newsagent and twiddled her thumbs desperately. If you were to have poked her at this particular moment in her generally dull and monotonous lifetime, she would not have responded. And if you were to casually walk pass as bare as the day when you were dragged reluctantly out of the nourishing warmth of your mother's womb the same result would have occurred. In truth the woman was not exactly looking.

A few bits of basic trivia about this woman:
' She was approximately 42 years, two months and four days old
' She definitely looked it
' The remains of a jagged scar was apparent on the left side of her stomach from when she had had her appendix removed when she was twelve years of age
' She was currently in a state of great, mental turmoil

The woman stared solidly at the poster on the newsagent's window; oblivious to the cars zooming passed her, separating her from where her attentions lay. The woman breathed heavily. It was quite a burden she was receiving from her severe and great, mental torture that had currently inflicted itself upon her. It was odd that the woman had indeed forgotten what was written on the poster even though it was the very item that had initiated the stressful, severe and great mental turmoil.

'ONLY £1.99'
It read shamelessly, as though one would be absolutely astounded by the suggestion of such an un-lucrative price.
'For a giant bar of luxuriously made,
Super creamy and
Double milky chocolate,
Made from the purest bred cows, in the beautiful fresh air of the Turkish country- side
BUY NOW
Before it runs out!

And, to add the dust of icing sugar on the Victoria sponge cake, it was aptly accompanied by a photograph of an airbrushed Turkish girl - who had obviously never suffered the consequences of pregnancy - smiling as she took a bite out of a brown solid somehow constructed by reacting small measures of sugar, milk cocoa powder and numerous amounts of addictives.

A further insight into what the woman was thinking:
' She believed the advert was a lie which gave her two hands
' It was creating a dilemma in her head causing mind-numbing, stressful, severe and great mental turmoil.

An explanation of 'two hands' was that it gave her two conundrums. On her left hand there was the prospect of the overflowing, overpowering and overwhelming sensations that the confection made from the aforementioned products would create as they melted on her tongue. On her right hand she was faced absolute perfection which had taken the form of a blond Turkish girl who probably had not felt the taste of ' well anything, for quite some time.

It occurred to the woman at this point, that when others pining for chocolate said that they could clearly imagine the feel of it when it rolled over their tongues which delivered them to a secret microcosm of heaven, that they were either lying or stupid. If one could so vividly imagine the pleasures that chocolate ensues then why was there a need to eat it at all? If this was true one could starve themselves stupid ' or to perfection ' and not feel sour about it at all. The woman could only try to anticipate the overflowing, overpowering and overwhelming pleasure that she should hopefully receive, followed by the inevitable guilt afterwards.

'It shouldn't be like this!' she wailed inside her head, 'why is everything so hard?'
'Because if it was easy, then everyone would do it,' replied the quiet but knowing voice in head. 'If everyone was perfect, perfection itself would become a flaw.' The woman growled in frustration. An irrelevant man glanced with concern at her.
The woman carried on sitting there, knowing full well that the longer she stayed there the more likely it was that she was going to make that deadly step towards the newsagent. The Turkish girl was still ever present. She posed with her pearly smile, mocking her.
'You will never be a beautiful as I' she laughed, tossing back her head of golden swirls. The girl was right the woman resolved and there was nothing she could do about it. She took a deep breath and as she reluctantly pulled herself to her feet. 'I hate my bountiful belly. I hate my androgynous arms. I hate my thunderous thighs. I give in,' she declared. She could not even look forward to the absolute pleasure that she might receive for £1.99, but instead could only feel guilty like she had in fact already guzzled down the entire bar. 'I have lost the battle,' she admitted bitterly, 'I am trapped by a merciless chocolate bar and no longer have control over any of my actions.'

And so she did it; she took the fatal step. She looked straight ahead, entirely focused on her cruel destination, only thinking of what she was being forced to do. She stepped solidly off the curb. Took her last breath; and was completely flattened by a charging BMW.

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Something I can relate to.

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