At the grocery store last week I faced a daunting dilemma. Involving dip. You see, while roaming the aisles in the scavenger hunt that is grocery shopping, I was hit with a craving for my favorite dill dip. A craving that was not to be assuaged with promises of carrots or crackers upon arriving home. A craving that took control, pushing me and my objections to the side as it steered my cart in a straight line to the refrigerated dips.

I had no choice, obviously, but to lift a drum of dip from the shelf and place it in my cart. But as I reached toward the stack, I wavered. Because there among the tubs was a new option, a fat free option.

Everyone knows that nonfat versions sacrifice taste and texture. There's a reason even health-conscious recipes recommend using lowfat. And low is, in fact, my status quo. Between the three, I'll always choose lowfat. But there was no middle ground this time around. It was all or nothin'. And so I wavered.

First I told myself that I was purchasing this product to satisfy a craving, and since a craving is concerned with taste, I should buy the full-fledged fat variety. But then I visualized myself lifting chip after chip to my mouth, each straining to accommodate the ungainly glob of dip that overwhelms it (as is my routine). I grimaced in guilt at the scene, and elected to eschew the evil of the full-on fatty for its skinny sister.

Back in my car, I ripped open a bag of chips and lifted the lid off the dip in delight. (There was no waiting for home. Such cravings must be appeased immediately.) My first dunk was a nervous one for fear of being foiled by inferior flavor. I lifted the coated chip to my lips and let out a relieved sigh. It tasted great! The very same! Yipeee, let's hear it for fat free! I swallowed smugly and smiled.

And then my throat was overcome by an acrid aftertaste.

Despite this, I proceeded to pop the potato crisps, dip-covered, into my mouth. Each initial taste was true to its roots, and The Craving didn't care about the consequences. And soon, the dip's undesirable esophagal effect was barely noticeable.

I continued to chomp until a different complaint caused me to stop. The snack was stale. Moments ago the chips had been satisfactorily salty, but now the chips lacked zip. I cast an accusing glance at the crumpled bag, but then I realized the blame belonged to the dip. I hadn't acclimated to the aftertaste after all. Instead, the pungency had numbed my tongue.

Lesson learned: No matter the nutritional sin. Nonfat never again.