Feaster

Easter is upon us. For most people it is a happy time, to celebrate with family and friends and enjoy each others’ company. But spare a thought for those less-fortunate than yourselves. Like me. I will be spending Easter, curled up on the floor, clutching my stomach in agony. While I can’t quite compare it to child birth, or even John Hurt’s famous scene from Alien, I will be in quite some pain by lunch time.

I have an addiction to chocolate, and while it has yet to reach the dizzying highs of other notable addicts – Daniella Westbrook (cocaine), Oliver Reed (alcohol) and Noel Edmonds (Telly), it is still a debilitating affliction. Come Sunday, you’ll be sitting down to a lovely Sunday Roast with the family, while I’ll be frantically trying to retrieve the last of the Malteasers from the bottom of the packet, whilst crying and watching selected highlights from the church service . Shocking isn’t it? I’m a Channel 5 documentary, waiting to happen – ‘The Boy Who Got Smashed on Smarties.

The sad thing is; it’s not a cycle I can easily escape. You see, I’m only just coming down from the Christmas sugar rush and before you know it, I’ll be smacked up again, this time on imitation chocolate rabbits. I’ve still got half a box of Milk Tray left over from Valentine’s Day. Well, it’s not exactly mine, but I did buy it. Either way I’m determined to have it finished by Friday. I would have eaten them sooner, but I lost the tiny instruction booklet, so I no longer know which chocolate is which. Having a snack is turning into a game of Russian roulette, and that’s a challenge even Derren Brown wouldn’t take up. If it’s a toss-up between a bullet and a Turkish Delight bite, I know what my choice would be.

Sure, I can hear the naysayers now – “Just give up, Rob. It’s only chocolate.” Only chocolate? That would be like telling Sebastian Coe it’s ‘just a sports day’. I’m sorry but chocolate is chocolate and in the wrong hands – it’s deadly. Unfortunately, those hands happen to be mine. So this year, I am going cold turkey (or cold lamb, seeing as its Easter). I am going to try curb my addiction, in whatever way I can. After all, I hit rock bottom once, and I don’t intend to go back there.

I was working from home one day, which is never a good thing, as I tend to eat my way through the cupboard contents – I start with the nice stuff; biscuits, crisps etc, and finish with whatever’s left, usually tins of stewed steak and boil-in-the-bag rice. On this particular day, we had a certain orange-shaped chocolate left over from Christmas. It was my girlfriend’s. Slowly over the course of the day I helped myself to a segment here and there. One, two, three… before I knew what I’d done, I had eaten the entire thing and was busily trying to reshape the foil to look like the ball was still intact. She never noticed. The next day, feeling incredibly guilty, I went out and bought two more chocolate oranges and brought them back. Whereupon I promptly ate both of them and had to hide the boxes before she came back. Disgusting, isn’t it? I can no longer look myself, or oranges (chocolate or not) in the eye.

So, I need to kick this habit. I don’t want something like that to happen again. I won’t lie, I enjoyed eating all three of those oranges, and I’d do it again in an instant, but the instant satisfaction I felt was quickly replaced with feelings on inadequacy. Yes, on the outside I was happy, but on the inside I was empty. Hollow, like those beautiful, beautiful eggs.

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