Confession time

Don't get all excited, it's not about sex but about food specifically being a vegetarian.

The vegetables that I like are vastly outnumbered by the vegetables I don't like. Tofu is only made bearable by coating it in batter and smothering it with sweet and sour sauce. There are tofu sausages made by Sanitarium which gives me a taste of normality with tomato sauce and mashed potatoes although if you read the ingredients on the back of the pack it might as well be MacDonald's.

It's no good directing me in the direction of good vego recipes, I have them by the hundreds but the problem is, they all contain vegetables and I have to cook them. I am so past cooking a decent meal.
Yesterday I had such a craving for roast pork that I gave in and bought 4 little pork belly cutlets. I put a skewer through them, covered them in soy/ginger marinade, hung them over a baking pan and let them cook. The smell was enticing, the eating not so much and I will be glad when they leave the body. The sight of how much fat was left in the bottom of the pan from four 8cmx4cm pieces of pork was frightening. It wasn't wasted, the magpies were enjoying bread dipped pork drippings all morning.

I no longer want red meat, add pork to the list but a geniune free range piece of chicken does find it's way to the table at least once a week along with some salmon and a tin of sardines or my doctor screams about bone fractures along with the other screaming he does when I refuse to get on his scales or have blood and fasting tests which means getting up too early on cold mornings.

My weight is at the limit of what frightens me, not as much as it was in 2000 but more than it was when I lost 20 kgs in the post divorce glow. My credit card is at the same limit, I dare not go over either of them. It's not like I'm not trying, I mean I'm not just sitting here eating chocolate, it's chocolate covered dried fruit. See, I'm trying. But I confess, my diet is appalling.

Breakfast cereal is a mixture of whatever's on special but mainly high fibre and skim milk but it's winter and that's cold eating. Don't mention porridge, I've told you lot before, it's like eating cold snot. But toast (wholemeal wholegrain) and two free range boiled eggs (before Miss O'Dyne has the vapours, Kangaroo Island free range eggs) and steaming hot Earl Grey tea I can manage with my eyes shut and they usually are until midday.

The problem is, I'm a stress eater and staying home with my feet up beside the fire lessens stress but I'm still stressed because I'm not used to de-stressing yet, being still in 'what's happening to mother' mode. This is not as bad as it was but the brain still lingers there. The last time I lost weight, I stayed home, kept busy (not housekeeping, never housekeeping) and the kilos dropped off. It didn't last, the motherdrama kicked into high gear and I was back in the fat business.

If I could just resist the siren call of cakes, forget the hand to gob pleasure of chocolate, the melting goodness of a quiche made with sour cream and Tasmanian Brie, the steam from hot crisp fried chips crusted with sea salt and bread, lovely lovely fresh bread with creamy butter and not the crap Nuttlex I'm stuck with. You did notice the absence of vegetables in there, I thought you might have.

There's no getting round it, I'm the world's worst vegetarian.