And we reach that time again. A new month. And with a new month brings a new challenge. And with a new challenge brings….not a lot to be honest with you. Not a damn lot.
Although, if I think about it, if I’m really honest with myself; I am enjoying the whole abstention thing. It’s quite liberating.
I did fuck up though.
Not just a little fuck up either. A proper monumental fuck up. A fuck up Frank Spencer (ask your Nan) would be proud of.
A crisp (yep, you know the things I’m meant to have been abstaining from in April) found its way into my massive gob and down my gluttonous gullet. And it took me hours to realise my error.
I’ll set the scene.
I was in a cafe with my family. My Nan was there and when my Nan’s there we’re having everything. We’re having the teas and the coffees and the cakes and the crisps. If Boswells are selling it then Mo is having it. That frivolous nature must be hereditary because I can never be in a shop without a full basket.
Anyway. I digress. For a change.
There we are, sipping our tea, I’m touching up my make up because it stops me from thinking about food. When before you know it, my hands gone a wandering. Where’s it wandered to you might (not) ask?
Straight into a packet of these bad boys.
Quite possibly the best crisps known to human. Although not the best flavour, the best flavour is either your bog standard Plain or your Salt & Vinegar. My son, however, is a huge Cheese & Onion fan so who am I to not deny him his pleasures?
And it would seem, who am I to deny myself my forbidden pleasures?
I didn’t even realise. No one realised. Until about 6 hours later when I’m sat in a pub, 3 pints deep, and he indoors pipes up. Excuse the pun.
“You had a crisp today”
He’s currently 4 months into an annual abstention from crisps. Yes our relationship is that fun.
“No I didn’t” came my reply
“You did, you had a crisp”
“OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”. I screamed.
The realisation. It was harsh. And it was unforgiving.
But what could I do? It’s done. I’ve fucked up. It was a moment of madness that can’t be forgotten. But I have to move on. I’ve punished myself enough.
Crisps, if you couldn’t tell, have been the hardest thing to abstain from thus far. It’s when my son is (slowly and painfully) eating a bag do I find my greedy little mitts making their way into the packet and grabbing a handful or two. Also, crisps are my go to snack when indulging myself in a spot of trash TV. Always Ready Salted Hula Hoops. Always a grab bag – because why not?
You might find yourself (or you might not) wondering exactly why am I doing this? What’s the point? What am I hoping to achieve?
Proving to myself I have something that resembles willpower.
Reversing years of bad eating habits.
Changing the way I look at food and the way I treat it.
And just because it’s a different focus, I guess.
May is National Walking Month. Some filthy minded sorts thought #NationalWankingMonth was trending on Twitter on Tuesday. Imagine wanking for a whole month? “Sorry, can’t come out until later, got to fit in my daily dose of tugging”. Although the way we celebrate these ‘National Days’ and ‘National Months’ it would never surprise me if someone actually did masturbate for a month solid.
When it comes to exercise I’m more of an ‘excuse maker’ than an actual ‘doer’. But one method of movement I do quite enjoy is walking so I’ve decided to embrace National WALKING Month and get pounding the pavements. A minimum of 10,000 steps per day, I’ve challenged myself to. 2 days in and I’ve managed 14,000 each day and I’m enjoying it. But ask me how I’m feeling about it when it’s pissing down with rain and I’ve got period pain.
Pastry is the food item I’ve given up for May. No more Cinnamon Whirls, no more Almond Croissants and no more Sausage Rolls.
No cheese for a month is coming. I can feel it. It needs to happen.
I might cry.