30 June, 2009on
Yes, you read right. Milo. That good ol’ chocolate powder that we grew up with. I sometimes do use it for its intended purpose—mixing it with milk (low-fat, thank you very much) and drinking it before heading off to the gym (ha!). But I have a Milo-drinking ritual which I strictly follow:
So I wasn’t able to convert him, but that didn’t and hasn’t deterred me from indulging in what said co-worker deemed a weird snack. Milo is my guilty pleasure on late nights when everyone is asleep and my sweet tooth starts acting up. I’d sneak into the kitchen, scoop some Milo into a bowl, and feast on spoonfuls of the brown powder while watching The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency (another—far worse—guilty pleasure). I have a Milo-eating system as well, one that involves pressing it into the back of a spoon, taking little licks until the powder turns into something that’s half solid-half liquid, and then licking the whole thing off. Interspersed between these licks, I gobble down spoonfuls of the stuff.
And while I could probably convince myself into thinking that Milo is really, truly good for me, and that I could have as much of it as I want (“Milo Everyday,” right?), there’s no escaping one simple fact: It’s frickin’ chocolate.