Friday, October 3, 2008

oh, that it should come to this

My name is Rachael, and I am a chocaholic.

(Hi Rachael.)

I blame my mother for the gene, but I blame Teddy for forcing me to take the first step and admit I have a problem. I attach a picture of both culprits here.

Teddy grunts like a demon all through the night, when he's not feeding. He wakes me hungry, every 2.5 hours, night and day. I can hold him off with dummies and pleas to Allah for about 15 minutes before I force myself awake to feed, but then he grunts and squeaks for half an hour or more - gas, we think.

'Remember, Sam had that problem with Isabelle,' Keith mentions casually.

'That's right!' I remember. I'm happy we might get a solution here. 'What did she do again?'

Keith has a funny look on his face. Sort of apprehensive.

'She gave up chocolate.' he says.

The bastard.

Anyway, it's been two days off the brown cocaine, and I'm realising I have a bit of a problem. Several times a day the thought 'have a bit of chocolate' floats across my frontal lobe and when I realise I can't, a feeling close to panic sets in. I'm not yet dreaming about Mars Bar canoes on chocolate rivers, but it can't be far off.

I'm giving it until the weekend and if things don't change, I'm having a Cherry Ripe - king size. Until then...pass the f#%@king dates. And stay out of my way.

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Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.