Must. Stop. Fucking. Eating.
I didn't lose 8 kilos to put it back on again, motherfucker.
And yet, I find myself flailing blindly in Sainsbury's for those awesome chewy slice thingies with lumps of chocolate in them, because I can't fucking stop myself.
I've tried the Jennifer Aniston approach of trying to say No, and I try to imagine skinny models in the pages of magazines, but that's got me nowhere.
The biscuit tastes way better than being skinny. Sorry.
I know every woman out there says, "Oh my God, I ate sooo much this weekend, I'm so fat, I had like two slices of pizza and a cream egg."
Well they're fucking LYING. They're say this to make other women around them feel better. I know this because I do it. EXCEPT THIS TIME.
The Brit and I drove down to the New Forest to see his parents this weekend, and all the way down there we stopped for things like cupcakes with creme brulee icing (WTF? WHO EVEN THOUGHT OF THAT? SATAN?) on top and chicken nuggets from Burger King <-----That's a crime. Right there. Not only for my thighs, but for chickens in general. Were they even chickens? Or just things that looked like chickens because they were reared in appalling conditions? Yes. I'm one of those tree-hugging organic people. So this was like manslaughter for my intestines.
Then about five glasses of Disaronno because it's Christmas and the lights are out and everyone is all excited and wants it to snow.
At the risk of sounding like fucking Ebenezer Scrooge, I blame Christmas. And darkness.
It's making me fucking grumpy. And the only relief I find out of darkness and contempt is that large slice of gooey cake.
Lots of cakes here seem to have balls of chocolate and/or custard in the centre. When you break them open, the chocolate oozes out in this choccano explosion. Having one wouldn't be terrible, but I can't stop eating after one.
When the sun sets at 3pm, I eat whatever I can see. To dull the feeling of needing to go to bed.
It basically feels like when I first gave up smoking. The cravings and irritation that took over my life for the first 3 weeks were just insatiable.
Now, I'm craving shit I shouldn't go near and one isn't enough, I need to
By the way, I've been a non-smoker for almost 7 fucking months.
Just eating like a feeder and might need a crane to get me out of bed in the morning.
Look I'm not complaining that I live in a country that sees 5 hours of light a day.
I'm man enough to accept that the dark and cold may have something to do with wanting to eat five loaves of bread for starters and the whole bakery for dessert.
**Besides puking after I eat/laxatives/speed/ecstasy/wiring my jaw shut - something more sociably acceptable please.