The above is my kryptonite. I'm not talking a slice of bread here and there with some soup or cheeky slice of toast for breakfast. No, no. I mean, I'm obsessed. For those that know me, you're aware that I could happily polish off a loaf of bread and butter and still want more. There's something about bread, be it the totally processed crap like Warburton's (the orange packet my personal fave) or a freshly baked, home-made batch; I'm completely hooked.
After visiting France last September with a group of friends, I felt that I'd eaten enough carbohydrates (mainly in the form of breaded goods) to last me a life time and beyond. I came back to England a changed woman. Full of ambition and commitment to cutting bread out of my diet completely. Instantly, I felt so much better. Less lethargic, full of life, I even felt fuller for longer after meals. But alas, this new found determination to kick the habit lasted around a month, leaving me disappointed at my regressed state but oh so happy to have the bready deliciousness back in my life.
Albeit, reverting back to my bready pal was a bad decision. Hands up, I'll admit, it's bad. So now, a few months after my slip up, I'm planning to try again. And this time I'm hoping it's for good. I read somewhere that some psychologists have noted that giving up bread is comparable to an addict giving up heroin. The withdrawals are so great because our body is desperately craving the sugar that we've subjected it to through our binge bread-ing. So, basically, I'm going to be like a crack addict for the next few weeks until I've managed to wean myself off of the demon dough.
This evening I'm heading to an Italian restaurant to celebrate a friends birthday. My plan is to stuff myself with so many carbs that I never want to look at another for as long as I live....
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