One chocolate… Two chocolates… Three chocolates… Burp!

Lipstick shades that lie in the brown color spectrum need not be worn only for certain occasions because every day is a special cocoa-tion.

I am an avid chocolate consumer. My imagination is induced by chocolate’s palatable reign over my every thought.

Instead of counting sheep to sleep, I count the grooves on the side of a Reece’s Peanut Butter Cup. The rain never depresses my mood because the patter of cloud tears rejoices the sound of a running chocolate fountain. Which brings us to the question:

How much chocolate is too much chocolate?

I met up with myself to discuss the behaviors of a hyper-crazed chocoholic.

Okay, my formal title may not tail off with the initials “MD,” but I am a self-dubbed Doctor of Medicine Hot Messes. Please, hear me out anyway.

The symptoms include but are not limited to:

1. Denial of that emergency stash of Hershey’s nuggets underneath your tongue well as that never-empty jar of fun-sized Mars assortments stowed underneath your bed, away from your roommates.

2. Feelings of discontent at first bite into a hollow chocolate bunny

Come on, really now? Who invented the chocolate bunny, anyway? Is there some grim origin behind its hollowness that represents the absence of the Easter bunny's soul? There are enough poor children in this world afraid of the darn thing.

3. Increased heart rate at the sight of this:

It happens, on average, four times a year — the day after Halloween, Christmas, Valentine's Day, and Easter.

4. Breaking off plans to break off a rectangle (or five) of a chocolate bar

While the rest of your crew is carousing away at a bar, you're be burritoed up on a beanbag. While a tipsy feller steps on your stiletto-wearing friend's day-old pedicure, your feet are protected by the pair of fuzzy socks you just pulled out of the dier. While your other friend is gets blinded by strobe lights, the reflection of your chocolate bar wrapper adds an angelic glint to your complexion. While another friend spilled red wine on her white converse, a gloriously highly respectable choco-stache appeared on your upper lip. Finally, when either of the three shows up to your door at 2:00 a.m. to cry about seeing their crush dancing with someone else, you'll be caught so off guard that the box of tissues will be out of reach, and you hand her the rest of your chocolate bar instead.

Chocolate not only keeps you out of trouble but is your number one trusted brand of tissue.

The question no longer is, "How much chocolate is too much chocolate?" Rather, "How much chocolate isn't enough chocolate?