THIS IS SPARTA or Thou Shalt Not Graze

So what is it about evening and grazing?

Most days, I faithfully clock time at the gym pounding out miles or lifting kilos in repetition to maintain an enviable fitness level. During busy daylight there is no sign of straying from my Spartan discipline.

A lovely, healthful dinner is prepared and enjoyed. It is always a convivial meal, rich in colourful veggies exalted by nutrition gurus. But soon after, with the sun long since set, I transform. Out come the ghostly grazers. I search for carbs, fats and sugar so successfully and self righteously avoided all day long. It is a near steady state of consumption that envelopes the rhythm of my household. For in the spirit of true partnership that is our blissful marriage, DH (dear husband) is usually by my side. He is my wing man on nocturnal recognisance missions for almonds, pistachios, dates, grapes, dark chocolate and light homemade cookies loaves and cakes.

Then, in my carbohydrate coma I pad my way to bed, and hope for a better day to follow.
To have hopes, have those hopes dashed, day after day, is as deflating as having no hope at all. But as Scarlet so poetically put it: Oh great balls of fire! I can't think about that now. I'll think about that tomorrow.