Seaweed Addiction

I’ve re-discovered my addiction for seasoned seaweed. For some time now, I’ve forgotten its existence and have happily lived my life. But the bugger crept back into my life, and sent my tastebuds crazy with an addiction so strong, even crack couldn’t compare.

 You would see me waking up in the morning with a packet of 10 sachets of 5 (meaning each packet has 5 pieces of heaven-induced savouriness, and I would have 10 packets in each session). Sorry for the hard maths, people. Anyway, its so bad for my health. How can it be bad for my health? Well you see, while I’m driving I have one hand on the wheel attempting to open the little packets while the other hand is busily shoving it into my mouth. What’s worse? Sometimes when the packets don’t open accordingly, there are no hands on the wheel…

After noon hits, and I’ll be home after the gym with more seaweed. And the bin living happily under my work desk is constantly choking with seaweed wrappers. How – can – I – control – myself?

Which brings me to my next session of depression… who has self-control?

Miss A has heaps of self-control. I believe it’s a skill, a life reward that only a special few can receive. She has special-K cereal for breakfast, lunch and then follows with a healthy dinner. She does not reach out for sweet temptations or pool up saliva in her mouth when confronted with a whiff of chip. Using Miss A as an excuse, I lack all self-control. Heres why:

The wonderful “What-have-I-Eaten-Today” list:

- 2 bowls of Porridge

- 3 large scoops of chocolate ice cream

- 8 packets of seasoned seaweed

- Bowl of Oats with Bovril for taste

- Porridge for lunch

- BBQ corn kernels

Its only 1pm and I’ve already consumed enough food to feed a family of 3.

Thank god I’m attending gym after work, that would help hopefully to destroy some of those calories from entering my ass before it’s too late.

The weekend was lovely. A weekend with Mr V is always lovely. I’m so crazy in love that he could’ve dipped himself in manure and I still would’ve wanted to hug him. It’s hard to admit it but lately I’ve realised that I am, indeed, crazy in love. I wake up thinking about him, go to bed thinking about him and at work I’ve got my phone close to me praying to god that I get a message from him.

Being obsessive isn’t good either.

Should I play Lady Evangeline?

(For those who don’t know who Lady Evangeline is, she was Casanova’s love interest. She was, you could say, Casanova’s replica with female genitals. She was a mastermind at flirting and teasing and she was able to drag Casanova around by the balls.)