The Disease of 'More'

I've just started reading the fabulous collection of essays and observations by Marian Keyes called Making It Up as I Go Along.

I have a huge girlie crush on Marian Keyes. She's a brilliant author, but also an addict who, many years ago, after 'becoming rather too fond of the Jacob's Creek,' ended up in rehab.

This inspired her poignant, yet hilarious, novel about an alcohol and cocaine addict - Rachel's Holiday. If you haven't read it yet, then lucky you, you have a treat in store. Buy it now!

Marian describes addiction as 'the disease of more.' She talks about how, when she finds anything that she really likes, she just wants more. Not just alcohol, but also nail varnish, fake tan and box sets (amongst many other addictions).

That is so me.

Marian talks about how all of these addictions trigger familiar addict behaviour.

For example, she loves eyelash extensions. When she hadn't had her eyelashes done for a while she would get irritable and tetchy.

Knowing that you were supposed to give your eyelashes a break after six months of extensions she would rotate beauty parlours and lie about how often she was going.

Eventually she had to face up to her addiction, confess to her beautician and go cold turkey.

Having just returned home after a three week family holiday in Cornwall I can totally identify with Marian's disease of 'more.'

I'm going cold turkey after a horrific (yet totally enjoyable) sugar binge.

When I first quit drinking I turned to cake. It was the lesser of two evils. Sugar was a completely necessary food group.

Eventually, as life evened out, I cut right down on the white stuff, lost two stone, and now I only eat sugary things as a special treat.

When most people would have a glass of champagne, I binge on sugar. When I finished my cancer treatment, instead of downing a bottle of vino I ate two whole boxes of Matchmakers (mint and orange flavour). In about ten minutes flat.

Going on holiday is also a cause for celebration, so during our first week away I treated myself to a Cornish ice-cream every day. It gave me a total buzz.

By week two, the ice cream on its own just wasn't cutting it any longer. I added in a few Cornish Fareings (large ginger biscuits) a day, plus a handful of honeycomb fudge.

By week three I was supplementing with cream teas - scones with lashings of jam and clotted cream.

The disease of 'more' had got me good and proper.

I haven't dared to stand on the scales, but know things are bad as #3 asked if I was "growing a baby."

I was relieved, and grateful, when #1 said "Don't be silly, #3", but then she ruined it by adding "Mummy's far too old for that!"

Great. Fat and old.

So now I'm back in my reserved seat on the familiar waggon. And it's such a relief.

Please feel free to share your holiday sins in the comments below. There's no judgement here.

Love SM x