Lovely Husband still has the flu. H also unwell as he threw up this morning but otherwise seems full of his usual three year old energy.

Shabbos still needs to be made even though I don’t know who will be eating it. Tonight I’m making chicken soup with lots of vegetables in it, tomorrow, salmon then chicken and couscous and salad.  I have bought Challa and ice cream (as requested by M).

I had a very healthy soup that I bought as a morning snack, highly recommend (from Tapuach in Hendon). 

Then some roasted kale (prechecked from Tapuach), I may have burnt it. Not sure if it worth the hype.

And a great salad with freshly cooked chicken for lunch

I then had a couple more chicken wings…

The internal conversation in my head goes a little something like this at the moment

Me: I fancy chewy chocolate chip cookies. They’ll be nice

Other me: But you want to lose weight and they won’t help

Me: But I’m tired and cookies taste nice and LH and H are ill and I’m a bit stressed at the prospect of the next 36 hours at home with ill people.

Other me: …. 

So I gave into me and made cookies.  And then it all went a little surreal…As this real conversation happened

H : I want to try it

Me: no, it’ll made you sick

H : But I want to try it

Me: do you remember you were sick this morning? Do you want to be sick again?

H: But I’m better now

Me : no

H : But I want to try it

Me : buy it will make you sick

And so on and so forth. Eventually I got him to leave the kitchen (he headed off to bed and fell straight asleep – because he is ill!) And what do you think I did? I ATE SO MUCH COOKIE DOUGH! 

I felt like I was arguing with myself when I was arguing with H. He being the child and me the sensible adult. Except then i am the silly child who gorges herself until she feels ill and gets fatter and fatter. Stupid little girl that I am, why won’t I listen to my grown up self? What am I proving? That I’m in control of what I do? Oh the irony. I’m out of control.

Except that the choice of how to behave is indeed in my control.

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