This blog post, is another in the Bridget Jones Style Diaries.
Tuesday 26th April
Weight: would rather not say. Minutes spent trying to work out fancy social media updates: about a gajillion.
Head on to Facebook today to discuss my frustration with Facebook Instant Articles. Conversation changes quickly to Emily’s new chocolate ban. Bec and Renee said they would also like to become #recoveringchocaholics, and the discussion turns to the absurdity of the English language demanding it be spelt chocAholic, instead of O-holic. I say that I don’t think I need to give up chocolate but should probably consider giving up Cheds, and besides #recoveringchedaholic makes much more sense linguistically.
Make the decision that I will never eat Cheds again.
Wednesday 27th April.
Weight still unknown. Cheds consumed: 4
It occurs to me that a definition of Cheds might be in order, for those who have yet to enjoy these delicious slices of Heaven. Think the snapping/sharing ability of a Scotch Finger, with the thin crispness of a savoury cracker, covered with a sprinkling of what is almost definitely an artificial form of pecorino cheese, and you’ll have the perfect accompaniment to any kind of life moment.
Cheds have got me through long afternoons filled with baskets of ironing. They have spent many a time sitting on a plastic plate (or more often than not, my knee), next to glasses of red wine. They’ve been there during hours of tedious study when not a thought ran coherently; as I’ve blogged and read blogs; prepared dinner and done washing; during late nights of Outlander viewing or book reading. Cheds, they’ve been there for everything. Saying goodbye is not an easy thing. I can’t just replace them with actual cheese you know — I hate the stuff! But Cheds… well, Cheds are the best.
Thursday 28th April.
Weight: surely lessened after fewer crackers. Cheds consumed: 9 Self-congratulatory points awarded for using fewer instead of less: 500.
4:30 pm It’s the second last day of the school holidays. I am considering pouring a wine, and responsible drinkers pair their wine with food. And wine and cheese is couture. (Mental note — check if I used the word couture correctly.)
And while Cheds aren’t technically cheese (if they were it probably bode better for my waistline), they go well with wine.
Which goes well with school holidays.
I pour wine and extract four Cheds. Then grab another three. I’m going outside after all — who wants to come back in.
Sit outside contemplating perfect weather and how the kids are much happier since we went on a giant walk. Thinking of giant walk… I check my Fitbit. I can definitely justify another two Cheds now. Besides the box is almost empty.
Friday 29th April.
Cheds Consumed: 2 and 1/2. Grand declarations made: 1. Grand declarations forfeited:1 #recoveringChedaholic day 1.
Today will be #recoveringChedaholic day 1! I will never eat a Ched again! I will be purposeful and strong and avoid all temptation that comes in the form of artificial cheese biscuits.
Lunchtime: I feel like something different. I know, I’ll have eggs! Eggs on toast. Or eggs on that homemade cheesy toast like the stuff you get at Sizzlers. It’s not cheating — it’s just being smart.
4pm: Boatman is home from work. He has a beer and opens a pack of Doritos. It would be rude to not share them with him. And besides, Doritos are allowed. Tell Boatman about #recoveringChedaholic and he agrees to be my sponsor.
9pm: We are watching a movie. Boatman feels peckish and gets the Cheds. I’m so close — I could make it through this day.
Instead I steal the box. It’s the last time after all.
Saturday 30th April.
Cheds eaten: 0. #recoveringChedaholic day 1. Reprise.
We are preparing for football watching festivities. Boatman goes to the shop for snacks. Friends also bring snacks. In the afternoon I am confronted with this, but it doesn’t even tempt me. I miss my Cheds. I would rather them than anything else.
9:30 pm. We’ve returned home from an engagement party and I’m feeling peckish. It’s madness, but I reach for the Arnotts Cheddar shapes. Boatman makes a comment about how they are just as bad and I ignore him, biting into a biscuit only to spit it out again. Damn you new and ‘improved’ shapes! Why must you take away all that is good in the world?!
Sunday 1st May
Cheds eaten: 0. Irrational emotional outbursts: too many to count. #recoveringChedaholic day 2.
Why is there no food in this house? There is literally nothing to eat?! I am going to die a slow, horrible death due to starvation! Everything is meaningless!
Monday 2nd May
Cheds eaten: 0. Packets of Cheds bought: 2. Belief in my own willpower: phenomenal. #recoveringChedaholic day 3.
Survive a morning of essay writing by munching on ice and drinking tea. Must go to the shops though for fruit and capsicum.
Go down the biscuit aisle in search of old style shapes. There are none but Cheds are on sale. Decide to buy them for the kids. They do enjoy them from time to time. Boatman too.
I won’t eat them. I’ll be fine. It’s just nice having them in the house again. Knowing they are close by. It’s kind of like a security blanket. Just because I’ve bought them, doesn’t mean I need to eat them.
One hour later: I will not eat the Cheds. I will not eat the Cheds. I will not eat the Cheds.
And I haven’t. 🙂
Have you given up any food addictions lately?
How good are Cheds?