Scaremongered by The Sunday Times Style magazine.

Before I launch into this full blown rant, may I say how I enjoy The Sunday Times Style magazine. I think Mrs Mills is hilarious, the clothes are always covetable, the recipes always make me salivate. But yesterday when I picked up the magazine it ruined what had otherwise been one of the most enjoyable days I've had in a while. (And this was after we had lost 4-1 to Germany, so you can see how dire the situation is here.)
Anyway, that morning I had slept in till 11am. As someone who struggles to sleep, especially in hot weather, this was marvellous. Managed to get my contacts in fairly easily, an enjoyable rarity and, as my contacts are still new, I am still enjoying the novelty of actually being able to see, well you know, people and stuff.
Put on my favourite new halterneck summer dress with my new dangly cherry earrings, a birthday present from a friend. Even painted my toenails a bright red to match my dress. Lovely.
Met the boys (and girl, Claire) at the train station and walked to a very nice pub, The Green Man in Putney, in the sunshine. Picked up a Fab ice lolly (only 79 calories per lolly and only 65p - fantastic) on the way.
When we get to the pub, we discover a fantastic beer garden with giant chess, giant connect four and giant jenga. My inner child is getting very excited. And then, I actually beat Claire twice at connect four! A true miracle for a strategically challenged individual such as myself.
The boys get in some drinks. Pear cider for me. The pub also has strawberry cider, which I drink later. Yay. Being the true lightweight I am, this makes me very happy, very fast.
Then I eat scampi and chips. Play giant jenga with my buddy Oscar. He beats me after I arrogantly claim that I think I'm better at the game than him. Serves me right.
Watch the football. That's a bit depressing but more cider and a game of giant chess with my friend Dan cheers me, even though he does totally whip my arse.
It's such a lovely day that these antics carry on into the evening when we decide to head down to the riverside for dinner. I enjoy a lovely pumpkin and tomato risotto and tell all the lads that this has been a really marvellous day. They are not listening, they are watching the Argentina vs Mexico match. I'm so happy/pissed I'm not really that bothered. But then, dun dun duuuuun. I pick up The Sunday Times Style magazine. Massive and totally sobering mistake.
I flick to one article, it's by a lady called Zoe Strimpel. She has apparently interviewed hundreds of men about how they treat their girlfriends and written a dating book about it. The general outcome of her interviews? Men are arrogant commitment phobic arseholes who will only treat you badly and make you miserable. In fact, she gives a case study where a man can be the perfect boyfriend for a year, AN ENTIRE YEAR, and then go cold on you. So, it's not like some three month fling where you can tell pretty soon this man isn't right but figure, hey, I had some fun. This is a year of them telling you they love you, always being on time, buying you presents, taking you on holiday, being there for you, putting you before their friends, talking about a future, marriage, babies, you think he is it and then he totally fucks you over. He pulls down all your defences, lulls you into a false sense of security and then buggers off to male childhood land.
Does this woman not realise how terrifying/depressing this kind of bloody article is for a single woman? As previous posts have shown, I don't have the best dating repertoire as it is. This just makes me want to run for the hills and never speak to a man again. (Unless we are playing a giant version of a childhood game that is.)
When I make this complaint to my male buddies, my friend Gary only comments with: "I would respond to that article with an opinion, but I can't really commit to one." (Groan) 
A heave a great sigh and turn to the next page. This is an article by Kathryn Flett about unhealthy eating habits. Apparently my little fascination with eating chocolate for comfort and my inability to give it up actually means that I use chocolate like a drug. That I, in fact, am a full blown raving drug addict because I can't go a few days without having a small amount of the sweet stuff.
Any feelings of happiness, joy or contentment about my nice day have gone out of the window. Now I see the truth, I shall die alone with only the memory of a string of commitment phobic boyfriends and my chocolate addiction for company.
It's fair to say that I have been well and truly scaremongered. And it's really starting to grate that the media does this to us ladies. Men don't get any of that bullshit. Men don't get double page articles in the newspaper telling them to 'be wary of those commitment phobic women!' even though I know for sure there are commitment phobic women out there (I've even been one in a past relationship), just as there are many men who do want to settle down. Men also don't get guilt tripping articles about enjoying chocolate. Men very rarely get told how to live their lives in the way that women do. They get commentary on events, analysis, news articles. They don't get do this, eat that, behave this way around the opposite sex if you want to be even slightly good enough to deserve a partner.
I can't believe I am actually going to say this. But I think I might start reading a section with zero guilt tripping and lots of fit, buff and healthy men to look at. Yep, you guessed it: the sport section.
Oh yes, but sportsmen do have a tendency to cheat on their wives don't they. Fucksakes.

Chocolate experiment = a massive fail

Ok, so my attempts at giving up chocolate completely failed. I have been eating a lot less chocolate but after my last post, I kind of gave up, lost all motivation. I have a sweet tooth and am unable to resist.
So, unsurpriseingly, I feel absolutely no different and cannot make any observations whatsoever relating to the link between depression and chocolate.
However, I did notice something. Yes, sometimes I eat chocolate for comfort because I've had a bad afternoon or whatever. But on the most part, I eat chocolate because I'm really hungry and it's the most convenient and speedily energy boosting thing to hand.
I did a small test and without chocolate it seems I only eat around 1,300 calories a day. Considering that we ladies are meant to eat 2,000 calories, no wonder I'm so bloody hungry.
So I shall try and eat much more healthy foods in the hope that my hunger won't turn me to naughty things but not chastise myself too much when the need for sweet takes over.