It's a great opportunity for sanctamonious teetotallers like me to get all up on our high horses and sniff at the sad drunken plebs who so enjoy their loosened inhibitions and ability to relax. It sucks being a control freak, it really does.
Except I'm NOT a control freak, really. I'm actually a giant bladder of self-indulgence, a veritable cornucopia of disgusting habits and poor life choices. So while I'm perfectly at ease refusing the manna from heaven that is fermented plant matter in all its forms, throw a block of Top Deck at me and it'll be gone faster than an unpopular Prime Minister.
This made me think, deeply and personally, about just how I could turn a serious public health awareness campaign like Dry July into a harebrained scheme to provide blog content and possibly amusing Twitter updates. I realised there were MANY things I could give up for July - shopping at Priceline, watching history documentaries, hating on Apple - but I've decided to do something drastic. Something almost.... revolutionary.
I'm going to give up chocolate.
Even as I type that, a cold sweat has broken out over my forehead and I feel a little weak. I have been a card-carrying chocolate addict for many years\
Why did I restart? Well, you can thank a little condition called mycoplasma pnemonia. I got sick, really sick, as in, probably-should-have-been-in-a-hospital-on-a-drip-except-the-doctor-said-just-take-some-echanacea-and-rest-and-for-that-reason-I-will-never-take-goddamned-echanacea-you-idiot-snake-oil-salesman-with-an-internet-degree. I ate virtually nothing for three weeks. My weight plummeted to about 60kg.
"Fabulous," I thought, in my foggy brain. "It's suckful, but this 'extreme disease' diet has really paid off." Except of course for that fateful day when I regained my appetite and was well enough to leave the house. First thing I bought was a bag of Malteasers. They tasted AMAZING. And I've NEVER LOOKED BACK.
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| Breakfast |
Fast forward to now, where I sit, Smorg-like, on a Toblerone Throne, atop a mound of the fat, sugar, milk and a wee bit of cacao that passes for your everyday chocolate. The saddlebags on my thighs would confuse Wyatt Earp. Much more of this and I'm going to have to start Spanx-ing up just to leave the house.
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| Thank goodness she put on that bodysuit to cover up her HIDEOUS FLAWS. |
So, the challenge is on. No chocolate for the entire month of July - from blocks to chocolate-flavoured things like cake and biscuits and milkshakes and delicious desserty things (Oh dear God what have I done?!?).
I was trying to think of a catching name for this project. I was worried "Deny July" might have a negative impact, psychologically speaking. I figure if I'm "denying" myself something I'm just going to think about it all the time then break after about four hours. After all I don't want to "deny" myself, I want to "choose NOT" to eat something. "Block Supply July" is rather fun, as well as a tribute to Gough Whitlam. But I think I'll go with "Thigh July". On July 1, I'll take a circumference measurement of my thigh. I might even get a trusted friend who won't point and laugh too much to do this, and keep it a secret. At the end of a month without chocolate, I'll take another measurement, and see if there's been any difference. I'm not going to make any other dietary changes - but what the hell, I'll try to do at least 20 minutes of power-walking everyday. That's something I might be able to stick to. The keyword here being "might".
Finally I should point out I'm NOT doing this for charity, or to detract in any way from the good work of the Dry July folks. But if anyone does want to throw money at me for not eating chocolate, I'll pass it on to a worthy organisation.
Now if you'll excuse me, I've got seventeen blocks of Peppermint Aero to shove down my craw before Thursday.
