(I don’t mean the Christmas leftovers that had been discovered, buried below the bag of broccoli florets that nobody likes in the freezer. I had that, doused with a probably unhealthy helping of garlic mayo, in a couple of sandwiches, at the beginning of March.)

Yup! That’s it! No messin’!

For over three years, I abstained from eating chocolate and sweets. And cake. Even when presented with a delicious looking, home baked brownie at post-tennis-match teas, I’d politely refrain.

I had realised one day how much chocolate and sweets I was going through. It was justified, in my coco craving head, by the fact that as a dog walker, I’d be outside all day, temperatures either too cold or too hot, but being in Scotland, often wet. The intake of additional power-packed calories would a) keep me warm; b) maintain my energy level throughout the day, and c) brighten my mood

Wrong, wrong … and wrong.

They made me feel boated and slothful … and guilty.

So I stopped. Right there; right then.

An epiphany moment if ever there was one.

And so now, I need to do it again.

I fell off the waggon (wheel), as it were, when I bought my elder son a box of broken biscuits. All regular tasting chocolate and plain style biscuits straight from the factory, but unable to be sold in the regular manner due to presentation issues.

I tried one. Then two … and that was it. A box. Then two. Then some ‘proper’ biscuits … just as a wee treat. Another wee treat wouldn’t do any harm, would it?

You know, an old manager of mine used to stress the point:

“You get slack by degrees.”

I normally live by that … except, obviously, when it comes to biscuits. And sweets. And chocolate. And cakes.

Seven pounds overweight may not sound too drastic, but I can see a habit gaining hold; an unhealthy habit, given my recent stay in hospital revealed a ‘slightly narrowing’ artery.

There’s no time like the present. I could procrastinate with all sorts of excuses and feeble reasoning. But it’s down to me and me alone. How much do I want to shift that wee belly? Do I really want to carry the equivalent of three extra bags of sugar around with me? How much do I want to rock those tighter fitting shirts I bought.

So, there – I’ve said it. In front of witnesses (that’s you, dear readers.)

I’m going for it, and you can hold me to account.

Wish me luck!

(Of course, the term ‘biscuits’ does not include my beloved Empire Biscuits – you know what they say about the Roman Empire not being built in a day.)

😉

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