Monday, 11 April 2016

My Daily Regret Of Our Pious Shopping Trips.

I blame the early morning cuppa!

To shop hungry or not, seems to be the question. Have you ever noticed that if you do your grocery shop after you've had either a big lunch or breakfast, you bypass most of the questionable delectables. If you don't believe me, give it a try.

When one is as replete as a tick, the thought of buying anything other than a few staples seems overdone because as your trousers are nipping at your waist after a huge lunch, eating is the last thing on your mind. Well, Bob is of course a great planner and he ensures his stash of delightful unhealthies are somewhere in the trolley most elaborately covered by a bunch of carrots or a cabbage, safe in the knowledge that I won't find it either in the trolley or at home in his special stashing place.

Sorry to disappoint you Bob, but I know that the back of the glass cupboard has a few contraband ( chips, chocolates and your favourite pork rinds ) hidden in it.

The other side to this not being hungry coin, at least for me, is the sudden iron will to not eat too much in the foreseeable future. Yah, yah, old habits die hard...where was that will when I had seconds or possible thirds? Eh, please remember not to throw stones in glass houses!

There is one aisle in the supermarket which has me hovering and debating each and every time. Hungry or not. Bob is a veteran at decryption of Biggi speak, and knows exactly how to handle my dithering. Not too mention others who bump into me, more than likely in the same boat...The aisle in question...need you ask, is of course the biscuit isle.

Bob will eventually come and collect me with an ultimatum of:

" Just buy it already. As I am rather partial to the Doppelkeks, get two packets. "

This gets me moving every time, as I don't want Bob to be tempted at home. Gosh, he can sniff out a biscuit regardless where I hide it...even eating one needs to be timed to perfection. His hearing tends to be supersonic too and he can hear the crunch of a biscuit from the opposite side of the house.

At this moment in time, just like every morning for eons, I regret my stubborn piousness in front of the biscuit shelf. Is there anything nicer than a tasty biscuit with your cup of tea or coffee? With the usual wifely aplomb, I berate ( in jest of course ) my husband each and every morning:

" You know, if you'd only let me buy biscuits the other day, we could have a nice cup of coffee with Dopplekeks. "