I try and resist the Twirl bar. There is really no need to launch headfirst into chocolate at this early stage of the day. But I start editing and five pages in I have a chocolate headache that will only be satisfied when I feed it Cadbury’s. I am addicted.
I check the size of the belly and evaluate. The belly does not need the calories. I want to be a slim thing, not a tubster. I definitely cannot get away with being chubby; I won’t go all lovely and curvy like some girls do. I’ll morph into the blob. I should not eat the Twirl. The Twirl is the way to blobdom.
But I can hear it calling to me. I know exactly where it sits downstairs in the kitchen. I know exactly how good it will taste and that for a minute or two the world will be right, happy, and swinging gently in a hammock in the sun by the sea. This will all come to pass if I eat the Twirl. For the good of the world I really should just eat the darn thing and be done with it.
But I could hang on to eat lunch. If I eat lunch then I won’t need the Twirl, at least not yet, not straight away. Its song will go silent for an hour at least, and leave me in peace. It will mean more if I eat it in the afternoon. It will taste better. Anticipation adds a certain tinge to appetite. Yes, I should really hang on.
Bloody chocolate. Who needs its endorphins anyway? I should quickly do some press ups, run around the block, or play loud music and dance. That will get them all pumping, and I won’t need chocolate. Effort though, isn’t it? All that effort, and I get the same effect from one gooey bite. But that is where head is seriously muddled, as the first way gets you feeling and looking good, the second gets feeling good, looking ultimately like crap. I know this. Yet still I want the chocolate.
If chocolate had health warnings on it, like cigarettes do, I’d still buy it. I’d ignore the warnings and tear the wrapper off quickly so I wouldn’t have to think about it. It’s not like I don’t know what junk food and no exercise will do to my body. It’s more that I prefer not to think about it, and then when the fat creeps on I can turn around in shock and say how did that happen?
I don’t want to get to that stage. I don’t want to be that person. I shall eat more fruit and salads. I shall exercise again. I shall do all these things and then I can treat myself without the guilt. Yes, that’s the plan for tomorrow. Too late for today though. *scoff*