House has become a chocolate factory

Ewan McGregor  as Renton in Trainspotting - the gender neutral toilets Zella has visited are almost as grubby

ZELLA COMPTON: Men – just aim it in the right direction and we’ll all be happy!

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In a restaurant, I feel the starter and the main course have not sufficiently filled up my belly so I go for a pudding – usually something chocolatey.

I especially can’t resist when it has a mouth-watering name such as Chocolate Explosion or Chocolate Fudge Blizzard. I mean, who wouldn’t be tempted by that?

My guilty pleasure is chocolate, but I think I enjoy it more than most people.

My favourite would be of the milk chocolate variety containing some sort of crunchy nut, probably hazelnuts.

But I will happily tuck into the more bitter dark chocolate and for a change, a bar of creamy white chocolate.

Recently, after going for a jog along Southsea seafront and calculating that I’d burned off around 400 calories, I rewarded myself with a chocolate bar cold from the fridge, just the way I like it.

I just wish I hadn’t looked at the back of the wrapper, which revealed my small treat was full of more calories than I’d just got rid of.

Although I enjoyed my self-given reward, I was a bit bemused that I needed to do a lot more jogging just to burn off a bar of chocolate.

This time of the year is when I probably consume way too much chocolate than is good for me.

It doesn’t help that the supermarkets are full of the stuff.

In fact, they have entire aisles 
full, including those big tins of chocolates.

I’ve already given in and bought one or two tins (or three) – well they were on special offer.

We usually have a small section of the fridge where chocolate is stored as a treat for my daughters or to reward good behaviour.

But now, at Christmas, it feels like our fridge, cupboard and entire kitchen (in fact entire house) have turned into the store room of a 
chocolate factory.

Caitlin would eat chocolate all day long if myself and her mum let her, so she’ll have no problem getting through it. And it seems two-year-old Alyssa has also inherited her dad’s love of chocolate.

For me, a self-confessed chocoholic, it is not a good thing for so much to be in the house.

I worry that if I’m left alone with my ravenous appetite and sweet tooth, I could eat the entire lot.

I’d have to reinforce the floorboards to cater for my new weight.

I feel the only way to stop temptation is to get the chocolate out of the house.

This will of course be via my mouth and I’m sure my daughters will help me.

By help I of course mean unwrapping the chocolates for me.

I might even let them have one as a reward.