I once had a job in a large Parisian pastry kitchen where, over the holidays, we made enormous quantities of Buches de Noel, cakes shaped like Yule logs. Through the month of December, we probably made upwards of 3000 of these.
The most popular version was slathered with a very rich chocolate mousse. In the course of making all these cakes, a lot of trimmings and leftover mousse were generated, most of which ended up in our stomachs. By the end of the month the taste of—heck, even the idea of—chocolate nauseated me. It was several months before I could bring myself to eat chocolate again.
Happily, that revulsion was only temporary, and I went on to specialize in chocolate as a career.