Diet peril of the evening munchies

Right, so a quick round up of the New Years Resolution diet.

Hold on, I just need a drink to wash down this bar of chocolate.

Does that tell you anything? It’s the evening that kills me.

I survive all day on lettuce leaves and sunflower seeds, pounding the streets for an hour each day working up a decent sweat.

I don’t have any cravings for the biscuits and toast at toddler group, I can do a supermarket shop and walk past the bread and the cookies.

However, come baby’s bedtime I throw myself to the sofa and immediately begin to crave everything I denied myself that day.

Thick white toast slathered in butter, cream-filled biscuits, white chocolate oozing from warm cookies.

I’m drooling as I type. I made the huge mistake today of getting on the scales and you know what, absolutely nothing had changed.

I feel a little slimmer, a little more toned, I am eating all the right things, good Lord I haven’t had a drink since New Year’s Day — if nothing else that’s a miracle — but no, the scales don’t lie, apparently, and I have lost no weight at all.

I ate my salad tonight and sat there feeling slightly depressed until I remembered he was driving back from work.

“Love,” I called his mobile. “You couldn’t just pop and get me a big bar of chocolate could you?”

“Fallen off the wagon have we?” he answered.

It wasn’t very encouraging but yes, I had a mighty craving for something sweet and much tastier than a carrot.

Don’t get me wrong I like a carrot or two, in fact I like vegetables so much 17 years ago I became a vegetarian.

So I can’t really blame the humble root. I blame willpower and the belligerent accuracy of digital scales. Those damn things. I had a policy when we moved into this house that we would not have any scales.

We have a teenage girl in here and I didn’t want to force her into a constant dialogue with them.

Come August though, and we needed to weigh our cases.

Insidiously the scales wormed their way in through the door.

I weighed the cases but then banished the devils to beneath the bed but they call for me every morning. Oh dear, I’ve given them a personality. I don’t need willpower I need a psychiatrist.