Because if you eat chocolate sitting on the sofa in your lying-down-wear then, despite all your best attempts to embrace the body-positivity movement, you will feel calorie guilt. On top of the ‘Jesus died on the cross for us and look what we are doing to the planet’ guilt. However we all know that if you lean up against the counter and annihilate a Caramel Egg it doesn’t count. In fact, you are probably burning calories with the strength it takes to stand up for long periods of time these days.
Supplements PLUS wine
You’re a couple of glasses of pink down. So far, so normal. But then you spot the little egg cup full of incredibly expensive vitamins that you left by the kettle, so that you’d remember to neck them with cleansing lemon and hot water (which you drink once a year). This morning, because of church (not really), you forgot. So you neck them now with the wine and they slip down like little bullets of wellness. Or maybe they get stuck in your sternum. So you have to release them with more wine. Much more wine.
Trying to make yourself one, all discreetly, standing by the toaster. Nothing to see here. And yet, it turns out, all you are really doing is catering for annoying passers-by. And everyone is moaning about their ‘orders’. Burnt, underdone, not enough butter, where’s the jam? If this weren’t a family newspaper, we’d tell you what we say to them. But we can’t. All we can tell you about is the crossness created by the buns.
So many milks. All the milks. Semi-skimmed, full-fat, soya, almond, lactose-free, oat and coconut. The fridge has become a dispiriting cocktail bar of milk. And we don’t much like any of them. ‘What milk would you like with that?’ we ask. ‘Do you have avocado milk?’ came the reply once. No! Absolutely not. Who has the time to milk an avocado? And, on that note, we’d rather not have a rice-milk Easter egg. We may experiment with our coffee orders, but our chocolate order remains true to itself. The way God intended.
Fruity bath time
And not just any fruit. Oranges. Is there anything more decadent than peeling an orange and eating it in the bath? Anything more ‘me time’? Yes, it is a bit inconvenient if you have to fish around for a lost segment, but frankly if anything is going to make you feel like a modern-day Cleopatra, a fruit-infused bath might just be it. (Perhaps you could also dribble in some of the many milks…)
There’s nothing like a four-day holiday to wheel out all the organised fun, as well as the feasting. And there’s something about Easter that makes people combine mass-feeding with mass-activity. Like Easter-egg hunting and something we call Cheese Charades. Rules: eat all the cheese. Then everybody has to act out the different types. Here are a couple of suggestions to get you started: Camembert (mime: come on, bear), Stinking Bishop (mime: hold fingers to nose, signal a large hat, make a prayer sign). Cheesus.
Suddenly the house is awash with crackers. Lining your cupboards are charcoal ones, heavily seeded ones, really, really thin ones (why did you even bother?), eye-wateringly expensive artisanal ones. Basically you’ve cracked. And so the cracker becomes a vehicle for every conceivable condiment, sun-dried-tomato paste, bits of Easter egg. Because you are tired. So tired. And your stomach is expanded. So expanded.
It’s Creme Egg season, which is, largely, a good thing. But, honestly people, there are many ways to tackle this national treasure. Here is our rule: never trust anyone who doesn’t go in with the finger. Nibblers have dark sides. Not in a fun way. But you should also know that the tongue approach is not OK in public. It is disturbing.
The Midults’ podcast, I’m Absolutely Fine!, is available on iTunes; themidult.com