It’s Monday morning, my washing awaits to be put up. Dry for yet another day of cloth diapering.
I’ve done the nursery run for our oldest son. I’ve had my own breakfast and a few mouthfuls of my youngest son unfinished breakfast. I don’t know why I do it, it’s just a shame to go to waste.
I’m home, Logan is playing with cars, I have to hang up my washing but despite feeling full I am craving the chocolate bar I have in my cupboard. It’s supposed to be for cookies but I doubt it will last the next few hours.. It’s starts with one bit, sneaky, alone, in the kitchen. As quiet as I can, because if he sees or hears me, he will want it too. It’s too early for chocolate. For him at least, he still has someone that tells him no to certain foods.
I however do not and have lost most of my self control.
What is one more bite? I mean really.. Surely that one tiny bit won’t hurt. I can ignore the fact that my trousers are starting to get that bit tighter for one more day.
But that’s how it always starts. Before I know it, it’s all gone. All I’ve gained is weight and a guilt complex.