Balsamic Vinegar

Balsamic vinegar: (n) dark, sweet Italian vinegar that has been matured in wooden barrels.Dictionary B

I guess it was around age 35 when I stopped trying to be enticed and instead, allowed myself to be convinced.

Up to that point, everything needed to have a sensuality, an obvious value or a pleasure related to it in order to grab my interest.

To put it bluntly, a stick had to come along a poke my lust–whether a lust for food, romance, power or even work–to get me revved up and ready to go.

Yes, I needed to be enticed.

So in that time–those “salad days”–when I ordered a salad, I always got a mix of Thousand Island and Blue Cheese dressing. Why?

  • Because I loved the taste.
  • I loved the rich, thick texture.
  • And I think, secretly, I was enthralled by the number of calories.

But then when I reached 35, I started thinking about my mortality. Death is highly unlikely when you’re a kid. But death lurks in your late thirties, and even though it’s not prominent, it is still evident.

It was at that point that I realized my choice of salad dressings was contrary to my good health. So I investigated other choices.

The one suggested to me more often than any other was balsamic vinegar. “Low in calories, good for your tummy and a promoter of excellent digestion.”

When I tasted it, I wanted to run out of the room. It was not creamy. It was not delicious. It was intrusive. Yes, that’s the word.

But since I was trying to move out of a climate of enticement, I allowed myself to be convinced that this dressing was to my betterment.

To this day, when I go to a restaurant and they don’t have lower calorie options, I will order it–not because it’s enticing, but because I finally am convinced.

 

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Areola

dictionary with letter A

Areola: (n) a small circular area, in particular the ring of pigmented skin surrounding a nipple.

It is a God thing.

I know it’s a little freaky to talk about sexual matters, and tie them into divine wishes, but forgive me. I feel comfortable with it.

Nowhere in the entire universe do you find the sense of humor, the passion and the sensuality of God as much as you do in the female breast.

Aside from being utterly magnificent in its form, and appreciated by men like me despite its various incarnations, it is a total blending of the practical and pleasurable.

Ninety percent of it is fatty tissue. Normally, we’re unimpressed with bulgy fat– unless it happens to land on the top of the female torso. I have some such bulges in my waistline, but no one is displaying it on the Internet for $8.99 downloads.

Pretty good sales job–to put simple fatty tissue in the correct location to stimulate lust. Remarkable.

Then you come to the nipple. Everyone in the world knows it has only one logistical use–babies really like the shape and find it easy to extricate Moma’s milk from the utility provided.

But let’s be honest. God could have just made fattened nipples. Right? In other words, a clump of extra skin and a doo-dad for baby.

But no. Not God.

Playful Creator He is, He decides to surround this practical implement with an areola. And then He inserts nerve endings aplenty for sensitivity and sexual arousal.

So you got the whole package here, ladies and gentlemen:

You got the clump of fat with the nipple for Junior

And a sensitive areola to use as foreplay

If we really just evolved based on the parts of us that are most applicable, then the areola certainly should have been abandoned tens of thousands of years ago. But since we were created, our Maker decided to give us as much pleasure as He could … without having us totally obsess over the product.

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