Going cold turkey

I NEVER thought I would be one of those people who longs for a couple of extra hours in the day or complains about the weather on a regular basis or generally turns into a right grumpy drawers.
But lately I’ve found myself in the most miserable and grumpy of moods. If it moves, chances are I’ll tut at it/ fire a dirty look in its general direction or beep my horn at it at least once a day. My days seem lately to be spent chasing my tail and wondering where my tolerance levels for anything out of the ordinary have gone.
Trust me you don’t want to get me started on poor customer service, people who speed across the Foyle Bridge or shops which don’t stock anything above a size 14.
The reason for my grouchiness? I’ve given up chocolate. No half measures for me this time, I’ve gone cold turkey and it’s making me unbearable.
You see things were reaching crisis levels. I had found that my occasional bar of chocolate was turning into one bar a day and when the wee man got a Milky Way or packet of Magic Stars, Mammy (that’s me) would have to have a wee taste first just to make sure ‘they weren’t poisoned’. (In fact my five year old niece thinks adults are immune to all sorts of nasties, after her grandad repeatedly tasted a chip off her plate ‘because it was poisoned’)
I am slightly ashamed to admit, my name is Claire and I’m a chocoholic. After successfully losing a stone in weight before Christmas I was scunnered to step on the scales recently and see a few (okay four) pounds back on and when my fat jeans started to feel like my tight jeans again I knew it was time for action.
This was all compounded on Saturday night when I was watching Casualty with Joseph and a rather large lady appeared on screen. “Mammy, that’s you in the hostibel,” the wee man piped up. I (ever the optimist) asked him was he referring to the “ambliance” lady standing at the side of the bed.
“No mammy, that’s you in the bed, you are sick.”
And sick I nearly was. I thought all sons (three year old ones at least) where supposed to think mammy was gorgeous and perfect in every way. My son, it seems, sees me as Jabba the Hut lookalike (albeit a friendly one who gives cuddles). So knowing that Mother’s Day may well bring some chocolate and wine my way, I decided to set Monday as D-Day.
I’ve never smoked (well there was one drunken attempt at inhaling a cigarette a few years back which led to a rather embarrassing coughing, spluttering and near vomiting incident) so I’ve never experienced the pain of withdrawing from nicotine- but if my chocolate experience is anything to go by I can kind of understand why people never give up the dreaded weed.
I purposely gorged myself on Galaxy over the weekend in an attempt to sicken myself, but in hindsight it has just made the withdrawal all the harder.
I did okay up to mid-afternoon. The worst thing the ‘Journal’ has ever done is put not one, but two, vending machines in our staff canteen. These wonderful machines are filled with Bounty bars, Mars, Snickers, Chunky Kit Kats and Twirls. They are there, calling me every day at around 3.30 and they refuse to be silenced.
And so began the battle with my inner demons. Surely, they said, one wee bar of chocolate wouldn’t hurt? Sure couldn’t I count it into my points and be done with it? And once the craving was satisfied then I would be grand, wouldn’t I?
But I know it doesn’t work like that with me. If I gave in to those demons once I would be giving into them all the time and then I would be back to square one and Joseph would be shaking his head at me as I tried to wrestle the Magic Stars from his grubby wee paws in a chocolate fuelled hysteria.
No I have to steer clear (even though I’ve been informed Milky Way Crispy Rolls are only 1pt- and sure they only have a wee bit of chocolate on them) because it’s a slippery slope until I become an Augustus Gloop from ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’ lookalike.
Physically it has been tough. I’ve had headaches from the withdrawal and my afternoons already missed their sugar rush. As I’ve said I’ve become exceptionally grumpy and short tempered. It’s true that chocolate contains certain Endorphins which create a happy state of mind and I’m lost without my daily dose- but it has to get easier, doesn’t it?
They say it takes three weeks to make a habit and three weeks to break a habit. I’m five days down, so if I can last another 16 days I’ll be free of my demons. As long as I don’t kill anybody between now and then, it should all work out grand.