I’m not gonna lie. Us geeks often have a love/ hate relationship with junk food. The nights of gaming take their toll and, more frequently than I’d like, the following day is spent wading through the carnage that is empty takeaway boxes, cans upon cans of caffeine infused, delicious sugary poison and, occasionally, entire multipacks of Tayto crisps.
The temptation is often too great to resist and geek activities often lead us down the path of dietary disaster. We all start with the best of intentions, but these will never last when there’s all-nighters to be had slaying monsters or binging on Doctor Who.
So far, you’ve laughed in people’s faces when they’ve offered you a spoonful of their ice-cream while out having lunch. Up until now your willpower has been as solidly forged as the one ring.
You’ve been sitting in front of screen all day and your retinas are ready to separate. Someone says they’re ordering pizza and they give you a look. That pitying look. You square your shoulders and tell them to get whatever they want, sure you’ll be graaaand. You will resist. You’ve nothing to worry about.
Look at me not caring about the extra pepperoni. WITNESS ME!
The Fallen Angel Cake
Someone goes into the kitchen and comes out with an honest to god cake. You realize that the devil brought the pizza into your life, not to test your resolve, but merely to weaken it enough so that when you see that double layered, creamy, chocolatey, jammy spawn of dessert Satan you fold like a deck of cards in Vegas.
Oh, it’s so good. So, so good.
And then someone offers you a second slice and your entire diet flickers across your mind before burning in the sugary fires of ‘want cake NOW!’
Dessert Into Darkness
You’ve fallen so far and you can’t understand it. Why is life so cruel? Why must we have to diet? You hate it. You want to eat cake all day.
The flood gates have opened. Before you realize it, you’re spreading two packets of salt and vinegar crisps between bread and have knocked back a litre of full sugar coke.
Then comes the chicken wings. Save me from myself. Someone, please.
Oh, and there’s always the one scumbag that asks how your diet is going as you’re sucking the BBQ sauce from between your fingers like some sort of crack addict.
Back On The Wagon
It’s finally time to return to normal life and you feel this emptiness inside. There’s a great sadness left in the wake of your binge. But it’s time to get back on the wagon. It was a once off. Those are allowed, right?
Then you hear the dreaded words – “Same time next week?”