Miss Cherry Red

Motherhood. Love. Life. And everything in between

Here we are.

A few weeks in to the big diet and I don’t mind saying it’s been a bit bloody hard going.

It’s fair to say I am shitting myself about tomorrow not looking forward to weighing myself.   I’m not remotely optimistic because if I’m honest.  I have really, really struggled.

And I do mean struggled.

The Girl was given a small mountain of chocolate recently and she’s not really a chocolatey person (I know, a 4 year old not overly fussed with chocolate – weird isn’t it?)

Here is a list of what she was given:

2 x selection boxes (each containing no less than 5 chocolate bars)

1 x box of luxury animal shaped chocolates

1 x small bag of white chocolate snowman shapes

1 x large bag of chocolate buttons

5 x flake bars

She’s 4 years old for fuck sake.  She does not need (nor want apparently) that much chocolate.

Is it any wonder that children in the UK are becoming obese?

And truth be told, I do not really want it in the house.

I’m not good at the whole resisting temptation thing.

Think back to when you were little – were you ever told not to do something?  Like by your mum?  ‘Don’t touch that wall it’s wet, it’s just been painted’.  What’s the first thing you do?  That’s right.  You touch the wall and get your hands and fingers covered.

The same when you’re little and on a plane.  My folks always told us we were NOT allowed to touch the button with the picture of the lady on it.

Inevitably, one of us touched the button when mum or dad weren’t looking and watched in delight as we realised it called the air stewardess.  We’d rub our grubby little hands and wondered how often we could push the button before the nice trolley dolly got thoroughly pissed off and we got a wholloping told off.

It’s the same thing when you’re dieting.  You go to ‘group’, you sit around, you read and poke through your ‘fat club bible’ and you’re told that you shouldn’t overindulge in cakes, crisps and sweets (to name a few of the naughty groups) but all that seems to do is trigger of the child in me that immediately wants to go out and stuff my face full of it just because I can.



I know that.  You can not lecture me any more than I would lecture myself.

But, I did resist some temptation.  I didn’t finish off the 3 small puddings in the fridge that I made for The Girl.  Which would have normally been polished off within minutes of making them.

didn’t eat the huge bar of chocolate that my inconsiderate boyfriend The Hot Geek bought, opened and left in the fridge: right at my eye level.

Nor have I finished the bottle of wine that we opened on Friday to neck enjoy with our meal.

Which I’d like the most praise for by the way.  Leaving wine opened in our fridge is sacrilege and the fact that it’s still there 4 days later is a fucking miracle.

I’ve had more fruit, fat free yoghurts (flavoured of course because the natural ones taste like shit).

No crisps and no sweets.

In fact, the only thing I ate that was really bad was the curry.

The lovely, spicy, chicken bhuna.

Wish me luck people.

Wish. Me. Luck.

Categories: life

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