​I’m constantly torn between Telling myself I’m totally happy with my size and inadvertently smacking Cadburys Chocolate fingers out of my hand calling myself a ‘greedy bitch’. It gets to the evening when the kids are in bed and I find myself unconsciously gravitating towards the sweet cupboard, whispering “my precious” like Gollum from Lord Of The Rings. I then spend another two hours hating myself for being such a fat cowbag after eating the equivalent in lbs of a healthy newborn baby. My teeth tell me to find a tooth brush and my jeans beg for the button to be popped open. Will I ever find that balance? When people say “oh I’ll have a square of chocolate at night after my dinner and I’m quite happy with that!” I feel like slapping them around the head and telling them to bloody behave! No bastard has a square of chocolate and puts the bar away – Don’t act like your jeans are tight from that salad at lunchtime Pauline!!! We all know you ate the whole pissing bar that evening when your husband went to the toilet and then you cried yourself to sleep.