The Yoghurt Resistance

OK, so today's headline: the first comparative weigh-in of 2013 shows me at:
17 stone 8.5 pounds. That's 246.5 pounds, for the Americans.

That's down 6.5 pounds on last week. Yes, yes, we've all been here before - marvelous, wonderful, but the trick of course is keeping that loss intact, and pushing it down. Anyone can lose that much in a week if they have as many spare pounds as I have. Next week will be a proving-ground, far more than this week.

Still, I won't say I'm not encouraged to have said a hearty "fuck you" to 18 stone again.

The real news today though...and it's dawning on me how weird this is going to sound...was going shopping.

I haven't been shopping alone this week. I've been too scared.

Yeah, you heard me. Scared.

Sounds pathetic to be scared of one's self, doesn't it? But you see, while I was pretty much off the Disappearing Wagon, shopping alone, which I did cos I work from home most days, became a kind of endless trip down fairy lanes of whispering temptation..."Ooh, what about this?" "Mmmm, remember that?" "Oh man, I could just dive into the other..."

I fully expected the whispers to become shouts now I'm absolutely not allowed to give in to them again.
And, true to form, they yelled at me...

For yoghurt, of all things. Muller Corner yoghurts with uber-sweet corner-fillings, like "Strawberry Shortcake" and "Choc and Vanilla Balls" and the like.

I know where this is coming from, thankfully. You remember yesterday, I mentioned Ma's house is a wonderland of temptation? She offered me a Muller Corner after lunch (though she has far more sober Corners, like fruit compote)...and while I resisted that temptation when it was offered to me, clearly while I slept, that little nugget of sweet nightmare festered in my brain, and now tonight, faced with buying milk in what I've long come to think of as "The Yoghurt Aisle", the little bastards screamed at me, straining off their shelves, to get at me, to rip off their little foil lids and yank open my lips and force their way past my straining, gnashing teeth and make me swallow down their sweet, sweet, calorific wonder.

I took a deep breath and the hallucination slowly cleared.
"Fuck you, Muller," I muttered gratefully, standing in the middle of the aisle and disconcerting people. I forced my legs to move, and as I left the aisle, craving was replaced with smugness of a quite unbearable nature, as I rationalised to myself that the only way to break the craving was to go through it, and not give in to it.

Won't stop me having all sorts of cravings of course. That's the pure delight of craving sweet things - there are so many irrational directions in which they can go, and so many places they can pop up out of the blue. I fully expect days when I feel I can't go on without a Cadbury's Creme Egg in the next few months...or a box of After Eight mints (What do you mean with the raised eyebrows? Everybody knows that once a box of those suckers is open, it's freakin' history!)...or Coconut Mushrooms, and plenty of things equally bizarre and twice as banal. But for today at least, I have beaten the Yoghurt Monkey off my back...

One day at a tiiiiiiime, sweet yoghurts...