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Biscuit. Gimme a Biscuit.

Feckin’ love an oul’ biscuit I do. Whether it be the crunchy crumble of a plain digestive or the jammy goo of a creamy ring, the biscuit was always the go-to snack of choice. Nice with a cup of tea, the teabag left in for maximum flavour or sometimes just with a glass of water. It was a simple pleasure, usually craved as each day meshed into the night. Damn, I would love a biscuit now.

But I won’t. I’m sitting here fidgeting like a junkie either coming down from a crack high or desperate for the next fix. There’s nothing resembling a biscuit in the cupboards and there’s only so much fruit you can eat in a day. I know there’s no point in turning the kitchen upside down, hunting for a baked confection because I ate the last mint Club last weekend. We even gave the biscuit aisle in Lidl a wide berth as well this week. A biscuit drought is upon us!!

Image result for Mint Club biscuit

You’ll know by now the reason for this vile situation if you’ve followed One Fat Irish Dad on Facebook and Instagram. The quest for health and a belly that doesn’t keep my nuts sheltered whilst running naked around the garden has forbidden me from quaffing even the tiniest custard cream. Actually two things about that. One, it’s a self-enforced decision to deny the enjoyment of such sweet snacking. There may be healthy alternatives out there, I just ain’t found them yet. And two, it’s been a long time since I was buck-starkers in anybody’s backyard. I think.

Ok ok. So it’s only been a week and here I am whinging like a tweet from Donny Smallhands but hear me out. The resistance training is perfectly manageable because I can work my way up the weights as my body gains strength. The cardio will be a killer for the foreseeable future until: my general health improves, I start dropping a few pounds and I finally quit the smokes completely rather than reducing consumption. That, in itself, is going to be the struggle from hell but it’ll feckin’ happen. Jaysis it better happen.

But it is food that will be the spider in my cave. Whether it be cutting out the sweet snacks, eating at more reasonable hours of the day or just plain working out what’s sensible to consume and how to prepare it, that will be the sword by which I’ll live or die. Yeah sure  I can read a recipe book or some online tomes of wisdom from successful fitness gurus yet experience has shown me that practice is wildly different from theory. Is it proper preparation I need? Will it all come from a process of trial and error?

Image result for Robert the Bruce Spider

Or will it be just old-fashioned doggedness and determination that will shoulder the cross I’ve chosen to bear. It’s starting to feel like I’ve decided to swim with the sharks but the cage is only half built. Mind you, if the Great White had a chocolate digestive between his teeth I’d consider fighting him for it right about now. Maybe it’s because we had dinner a few hours ago and it’s usually around this time the cravings kick in. Is it me or does the washing machine in the kitchen and the traffic outside seem louder than usual?

Research has told me what’s healthy and what’s to be avoided. Sugar has been removed from any liquid that lives in a cup and all bread product in the house is wholemeal. Never thought I’d hear myself say that. These are only snippets of achievement in the grand scheme ahead. What’s scaring me most is the inevitability that I’ll have to spend part of my days reading the fucking sides of packets to avoid the shady stuff. And that once all that effort is expended, I’ll still have to concoct something that’s edible and the kids won’t contact Childline after mealtimes.

Image result for Children not eating dinner

Frankly it’s all pissing in the wind at this time. Thankfully it blows in the right direction for now.

To follow my adventures in trying to become fatdad2phatdad, you can like the pages at Facebook and Instagram. Feel free to share this and other articles there with people who you think might be inspired to try something similar with their health and fitness. Or with people who would just love a good laugh at someone’s pain and misfortune. Either way, I’m treating it all as encouragement to keep forging on. And I’m kinda enjoying it too, so far.

Apart from the damn biscuits.


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