I woke up in such a shit mood this morning.
The reason for this was in part due to my son thinking it’s absolutely fine to wake up at 5:30am and demand his breakfast, Challenge TV turned on, the bed to be used as his own personal trampoline. I could go on but I won’t. I’ll spare you.
The other reason for my shitty demeanour was the epic mistake I made last night.
This Dechox I’m doing has been planned for a few weeks. I checked when Easter was to make sure it wouldn’t coincide and thankfully this year it’s in April (I hate an early Easter, it’s so frigging inconvenient) and remembered I only had 1 Birthday to celebrate in March and my Nan hates chocolate cake (mad eh?) so that’s an advantage. To me, the only issue I had with doing the Dechox was that it’s in one of the longest months possible. 31 days is a long time. A bloody long time.
Languishing in my freezer (don’t judge) for the last week or so has been a large bag of Maltesers and a Cadbury’s Caramel egg (they’re 3 for £1 in Tesco at the moment – you’re welcome). I’d been saving these wonderful chocolatey items for Dechox Eve. After my healthy tea of smoked salmon and scrambled egg (and a bagel, I’m obsessed with bagels) I was going to chow down on the caramel egg (whilst praying I wouldn’t crack a tooth) and pop each Malteser into my mouth with abandon. The house needs to be rid of all chocolate thus this was going to be guilt free, indulgent heaven. A way for me to bid farewell to my most favourite sweet food if you will.
Only I fell asleep.
Yep, that’s right. I had my tea. Went to bed “for a lie down” (this equates to playing on my phone, posting
a few (a lot) twatty tweets and scrolling through Instagram) and I fell asleep. At 8:15pm.
FUMING FUCKING HELL.
So now, it’s 8pm (nearly sleep time), I’m led in bed writing this blog post and all I can think about is that frozen chocolate basically willing me to eat it. I know it’s there. I know what it smells like. I know what it tastes like and this is akin to some sort of mental torture. Dramatic I know, but fuck it. It’s what I’m feeling.
Talking of smell, my son asked for some chocolate this afternoon. I’ve told him I’m doing a Dechox but he’s 3 and he honestly couldn’t give one.
I opened the fridge to discover there were some small Cadbury’s chocolate bars hiding at the back. He saw them before I did. “Can I Mummy? Can I” he cries. “Yes you may my lovely” I reply. “But I need to do something first”.
And do you know what I did?
I unwrapped that bar of chocolate. I unwrapped it like I was in Charlie and The Chocolate Factory, thinking I’d find the last golden ticket peeking through the purple wrapper and I smelt it. I stood in my kitchen for 30 seconds inhaling that chocolate bar like it was Tom Hardy wearing the best aftershave you can think of, stood at my front door willing me to invite him in.
“Rach, for goodness sake, just give him the chocolate bar” a voice booms from the lounge. It’s Wes and he knows what I’m doing. He thinks I’m being ridiculous. And you probably think I’m being ridiculous but I don’t care. That sweet, sweet smell is the closest I’m going to get to chocolate until next month (I could cry) and I’ll take what I can right now.
This shit is hard. I thought giving up smoking was a challenge but Christ on a bike this is on another level. I spent an hour and a half on the exercise bike this evening, just to take my mind off things and keep myself busy. And all I could think whilst I was pedalling like I was Victoria Pendleton in London 2012 was ‘you know what would be a deserved treat after this workout….a nice Crème Egg’.
Roll on April. March is shit.
What I’d give to wrap my laughing gear round these right now.