It Goes Right to My Gut

Wednesday marked the real end to Christmas. After Christmas Eve and Christmas Day get-togethers with my family and John's, we did the extended Greco family Christmas dinner yesterday. As expected, a week of festivities included a lot of treats and though I tried to be pretty good, I did indulge in some delicious desserts.

Last night, after we got home from my parents' house I went to change into pajamas. I happened to look down and spot some sort of mark on my stomach. It was a brownish spot roughly the size and shape of a dried apricot right above my belly button. It looked some kind of bruise and really freaked me out. I had no idea what it could be or how it had gotten there; did I not remember walking into something, belly first? Was it a sign of a tape worm? A misplaced stigmata?

I went over to John in the other room and showed him. "What the hell is that?" he asked. He seemed disturbed by it too, which only fueled my fear. But I touched it and it didn't hurt. Then I touched it again and realized that it smeared.

"Wait a second," I said, and went into the bathroom. I dampened a paper towel and rubbed it across the mark. It came off. I smelled it.

Chocolate.

Yup, a significant piece of chocolate fell down my shirt and melted against my belly and I had no idea.

Merry Christmas.