Think Before You Eat!

Self-discipline when it comes to chocolate has never been a strength of mine.

My mum has always said that chocolate would be my undoing.

It’s hard to explain but if it’s in the house I think about nothing else. Its existence gnaws away at the back of my mind until I rush to the secret place at the back of the cupboard above the sink, where I fool myself I will forget it is there and devour it all in one go without particularly savouring its flavour.

Today, I’m ashamed to say, has been one of those days but its repercussions are great. So great I’m currently sitting in the middle of the lounge on the floor shrouded in a mixture of pure fear and sweat.

Tell-tale signs of my crime can be seen on both my fingers and the corner of my mouth.

Chocolate.

That’s ok you probably think. Just another episode of lack of self-control when it comes to confectionery.

But you would be wrong.

In front of me on the floor is the beautiful but empty turquoise box with the infamous F&M initials embossed on the front, the ribbon ripped without a thought such was my desire to reach the wonders inside.

And oh what wonders they were.

A melee of exquisite milk and dark filled sugary elixir delivering a rush as fulfilling as any drug I personally could imagine.

But oh how quickly did that rush come to an abrupt end and oh how quickly did I crash to earth with an almighty bump.

The first reality check came in the form of a price tag. £210.

Really?

On closer inspection the F&M or rather the Fortnum and Mason brand became clear.

He had said it was for his mum. Obviously that fact in itself should have stopped me devouring this Christmas gift but £210.

Oh my god!

If this was not enough the second reality check was truly horrendous.

In my wild abandon to devour every last chocolate in this box of wonders I’d missed a shiny golden piece of paper.

A golden ticket.

A golden ticket which kindly informed me that as the only winner of this year’s prestigious Fortnum and Mason £500,000 prize I need only retrieve the small golden key which I would find nestled under one of the many wonders which I had greedily devoured completely oblivious.

A box of chocolates.
A £210 pound box of chocolates.
A box of chocolates which did not belong to me.
A box of chocolates which was never destined to belong to me.
A key to a life-changing £500,000.
£500,000 which in truth was also never destined to belong to me.
A key lying deep within my stomach.
A key which could be retrieved albeit involving a stomach churning process.

Suddenly I never wanted to see a chocolate in my life ever again.

As my mum had predicted it looks as though chocolate really has been my undoing.