The Maternal Temptation

Yes, yes, I know how icky that title sounds.

Went up to Ma's place today to work there, and just Be Around if needed. Thing is, even on a discipline jag, Ma's has frequently been a kind of "holiday" destination. You're offered endless cups of tea and coffee, and, as today when my aunt and uncle turned up, the biscuits come out.

"Want one?" asked my uncle.
"Nah, I'm good thanks," I said, wanting to tear the barrel out of his hands.
"Go on mun, have one," he encouraged, waving the barrel under my nose.
"Nono, really..." I said.
"GO ONNNN," he insisted. "If you have one, I can have one..."

I love this kind of logic. I've used this kind of logic sooooo many times it's entirely unfunny. I clenched my jaw.
"Go onnnn," I unconsciously imitated. "You have 'em, I'm trying to be a good boy." He sniffed, as if to keep largely his own counsel about either my potential goodness or my desperate pretension at 41 in describing myself as a "boy", then picked out a biscuit and started to dunk it.

There are similar temptations around every perspex corner at Ma's. She offered me a bunch of sweet diet biscuits, for which, during the Disappearing Downfall of 2012, I developed something of a taste. I brought them home, and now they're sitting in the larder, like a kind of solid icing-covered anchorweight to this whole thing. They're there if I abbbbbsolutely can't stand it and need a quick sweet hit for about a hundred calories. But I'm going to keep them there as long as I can.

And so on to the morning, and the first comparative weigh-in of the new regime. Am genuinely curious about what it'll show, having been a reasonably "good boy" this week.