Oooooph. I am finding it exponentially torturous to not chow down upon the silky brown deliciousness of my forbidden chocolatey life partner. Chocolate and I shall be forever entwined in a firey love/hate emotional tango. I hate to love it and I love to hate it.
The countdown clock to Easter Sunday is at just under 2 days, and they are the shaping up to be the longest days of my life, in no small part down to being a technologically savvy drunkface who bought a massive high sleeper bed online without thinking about how to transport it home or, more crucially, whether it will even fit in my Harry Potteresque living space, under the stairs.
***long sigh*****
This has been my most bountiful Easter, in terms of edible prolate spheroids, since being spoilt by the “vicar's daughter” chocolately cash/egg cow of my childhood. I have had to implement a “Draw of Guilt” where I have hidden the work based donations (each with their accompanying post-it notes of support/torment for holding out on my melty true love for nearly 6 weeks) and a “Car-boot of Wanton Desire” where I have currently encased my larger, more seductive chocolate naughties.
Don’t get me wrong, I know I've done well with giving up chocolate this far.
I just don't focus on it anymore. In fact, I can barely focus on anything anymore, since replacing chocolate with week-day wine and excessive cake consumption. Oooops.
Frustratingly, I just know that, come 00:01 on the Sunday morning, I will be face gap deep in a sick inducing gorgefest. In fact, it's suddenly occurred to me that we are losing an hour this weekend and therefore, perhaps, as I've been such a good girl, that maybe I can start at 11pm on Saturday instead? No? Pfffffft. Spoil sport.
On a completely unrelated note, ahem, I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that have, what *some* might consider, a “bit of a problem”.
Work colleagues are even starting to make comment about my completely uncontrollable expression of physical pain and almost tangible distress that emote "all about my baaaaaad self (brap brap)" when I forgo my diabetes kickstart treats for a day. Apparently, I made reference to cake about 20 times during one period of withdrawal. How tedious is that?! Ooooooh the shame. My office is always a hotbed beautifully homemade sugar filth too, which really doesn't help. (Just look at the cake someone made for paddy mcguiness day!)
So I'm taking hold of my "bit of a problem", tightly round it's sugar lumps, and will dominate the calories out of it , right into healthy submission.
My colleague and I are embarking upon the noble(idiotic) quest to completely rebuke and discard cake/chocs/sweets/treats/joy from our lives in the first week of May, just to see if we can.
I know, right? I'm the catalyst of fun.
****another long sigh******
Will power is hard :o(
Rise and Shite.
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January is such a sad time of year. The grey skies, the cold weather and
the look of grief on the faces of friends, family and acquaintances when I
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