I’m a pork crackling breast fed baby!

At Sue’s 58th Birthday I ate obscene amounts of Pork Crackling on the premise that I was breastfeeding and so therefore my body would melt the fat and turn it into power juice breast milk.

I now have  a post crackling size 14 butt. I noticed this waddling along beside me in the mall today as I passed by shop windows. horror o horrors.

They had a big pig on a spit for the party. On round one I took a scoop of crackling worthy of your standard Sunday night pork roast, except I was the only one eating the pork roast and so had all the crackling.

Round two. I sent Pete up to get the aforementioned crackling, he brought back one whole dinner plate full of crackling and I put my hand up to my mouth in horror and exclaimed, (loud enough for all to hear), that ‘I could never possibly eat all that crackling!’ 20 minutes later, the plate was empty.

Round 3. Pete dropped me home to settle Annie-Rose to bed around 6 and then went back to the party. When he got home I was slumped on the sofa in a post pork crackling daze going through my expressing ritual. He came in with his hands behind his back, eyes full of crackling induced glee and said, ‘I have a surprise for you!’ and promptly withdrew a takeaway lunch box full of left over crackling.

‘Oh man’ I said as he set the box down beside me, ‘I couldn’t eat another piece of crackling’. ‘No worries’, says Pete and scoops it back up, ‘I’ll just put it in the fridge for tomorrow’ He got as far as the living room door before I screeched out in a crackling frenzy, ‘WAIT! perhaps just one more piece before we go to bed eh?’ I looked at him like I’ve just suggested having sex in an elevator. That box barely made it through the evening but what was left was sucked down for breakfast alongside our poachies.

I think I was pork drunk. Who eats that much crackling? Even the extremely obese would feel guilty after such debauchery. To make matters worse, as I’m writing this blog I’ve just finished watching New Zealand’s Next Top Model, the self loathing is at an all time high. Now where did I put my running shoes……