This morning I trundled my large arse off to play group with my youngest son. I only fully woke up about five minutes in when he smacked a tambourine off my right tit and started trying to choke himself on a mini maraca. I realised where I was and looked around the room at the other mums dancing to “the magic ring” (insert joke here) looking like bloody idiots.
To stop myself from smashing my skull into the opposite wall in time with the bananas in pyjamas song, I started to think about my diet plans for the day ahead. Gluten free toast for a late breakfast with some nut butter and a banana I mused. Some fancy herbal tea throughout the day to keep hydrated I thought. pulses and brown rice for lunch I mulled over. Nicoise salad for tea and bottled water. Maybe I will go all out and have fizzy water tonight.
Ten minutes later I had to remove myself and my arse (otherwise known as my one year old) from the group due to him thoroughly hating the music and dancing (unlike the other twenty kids) and rolling around on the floor making the same noise I suspect a cat would make if you slowly ran over them with a lawn mower. I made a swift exit while the other mums looked sympathetically on.
I ran to a coffee shop and got an extra large latte. For the stress. So that’s my diet broken.
I then came home, put him down for a nap and watched Jeremy Kyle on ITV+1 as my life is fucking tragic. I eyed the Chinese take away left overs my husband left from last night and thought about having it for lunch with a glass of wine because it’s Friday and I need a reason to go on.
This is why mums can’t diet. We can start off with very good intentions. We can throw out all the crap food. We can read all the diet books. We can follow these gurus on Instagram. We are educated. We can prep like a boss and meal plan and feel so completely motivated and then….CHILDREN HAPPEN. “Children” happens to your day in some way. Our blood pressure goes up and up and up and even though you’ve told your head NO NO NO NO. Your heart is chanting “pizza pizza pizza pizza.”
Not only this but our days are too long. There can be fifteen hours between waking up and passing out when the kids are forced to bed and you haven’t had time to have a piss, let alone make a chickpea curry.
Then there’s the fact we don’t go out. We have no social life. The only thing we have to look forward to is Strictly, X Factor and Gogglebox. And you think I’m going to sit and watch those with some carrot sticks and a fennel tea? Give me the fucking wine and a straw and leave me be.
Just Eat also contact me more often than my mum. They seem to really care about me. It’s a forbidden love.
Erego – Mums can’t diet.
I’ll have the weekend off and start again on Monday. No one ever started anything good on a Friday. Anyway got to go, Just Eat are texting me.