I heart nutella

I blame Nutella for many things. My widening girth being the main one. The more pedantic amongst you may want to point out that my stout middle is not Nutella's fault and I agree, I do lack willpower. When the 4 o'clock energy slump takes place, I have been known to ignore the usual accoutrements - toast, bread, spoon, and just shovel it into my mouth, using a finger.
But there comes a time when a lady has to either accept her thickening middle, adopt slacks and a pair of Clarks shoes, as her prerogative (I have to admit, that's a tempting option). Or she fights it (less tempting, but the one I've been conditioned to accept *shakes fist at sky and blames society*).
So, I'm fighting it. Sigh. Which means there's no Nutella in the house.
I wouldn't be so rash as to say I'm on a diet. I'm naturally an ectomorph so diets are a foreign country to me. I'm just trying to change my lifestyle a bit to reduce my calorie intake and increase my calorie burn. Now it's summer it means I can cycle more, eat more salad. Although I've spurned these options in favour of getting really stressed to burn the calories - and I've taken to it surprisingly well. Buying a house we really can't afford, which means I have to take up a proper job (one which doesn't involve wearing my pjs all day accompanied by my Nutella moustache) has had an amazing affect on my stress levels.
As well as the slimming aid of sky-high adrenal glands, I've replaced Nutella with jam, and sometimes I have  chocolate Philadelphia (a combination brought to you by the brand supercouple Kraft and Cadbury's). It's surprisingly nice and it seems incredible that no-one thought of it before. And it's about half the calories. I'm not saying I've given up Nutella - that would be akin to saying I've given up drink. Ridiculous. But it's going to be for high days and holidays, rather than everyday, at 4pm.