A few days ago, I watched a documentary on the human digestive system. One thing these scientists and nutritionists kept repeating when asked about food choices: “Listen to your body.”

OK, what does that even mean?

Since puberty, “listen to your body” has been the siren’s call leading me down a path to only one place, a place filled with regret, remorse, shame — and maybe a little “wowzer!”

“Try smoking, Marlboros — you’ll like it!” the Body said.

“Try this lime-flavored vodka,” the Body said.

“Try getting stoned,” the Body said.

“Try sex instead of studying for your final exams,” the Body said.

“Try …” You get the picture. Listening to my body leads to trouble. Fun trouble, yes, but trouble.

Today, I “listened to the body.”

While shopping for dog food, my body told me unequivocally what it wanted: Chips Ahoy cookies. It was shockingly specific.

“How about an apple?” I offered.

“Chips Ahoy!, bro. In the cylinder package. And hurry.”

I tried to reach for the Oreos, hoping that would throw my body into a morass of indecision. It didn’t. The Oreos, once in hand, were nauseating to think about. All that cream between two dark chocolate wafers. “Bleech,” said my body.

“I agree,” I said with a sigh. “How about a small bag of chips?”

Body: “I said Chips Ahoy! Classic. With the exclamation point. 

“I do not want Chips Ahoy that are reduced fat, chewy, peanut-buttered, chunky, white-fudged, 100 percent whole grain, soft baked, in a pudding, almond chunked, pecan chunked, Big & Chunky, Soft & Crunchy, Choco Chunky, or mini-sized. 

“I especially do not want a Chips Ahoy granola bar.

“I want the vaguely cookie dough-like substance with fake chocolate droppings scattered in them. Do I have to spell it out? C-H-I-P …”

I’d hear enough. “OK. OK. You don’t have to shout. I’m right here. In fact, I am YOU and I don’t like the tone you are taking.”

I was so tired of listening to my body.

I pulled a cylinder of the Chips Ahoy! classic cookies off the shelf.

It was a short cylinder — barely six inches long. Intuitively I knew there was a longer Chips Ahoy! package lurking nearby. And probably a whole box of the cookies within easy reach.

I convinced my body that this was all it needed and it bought my argument.

While I bought the cookies.

I tossed in a bottle of electrolyte fruit drink to salve the awful guilt that I was feeling.

Not that my body cared.

 “Holy f*** man, I haven’t had Chips Ahoy since who knows when? Hey, remember when we used to live on Chips Ahoy!, cranberry juice, and bananas? We used to call it, ‘the three major food groups’ because that was all the food we could afford. Chips Ahoy! tasted better then and were probably healthier. I’ll give you that …”

“Shut up, Body. Just shut up. And eat.”