April fool...

So it was scales day yesterday.......another 2lbs gone this week (I am seeing a pattern here) so if this carries on, I should be at my target weight in another six weeks or so.  To give myself the chance to tumble off the biscuit-wagon a couple of times, I am setting myself the aptly named April Fool's Day to reach my happy weight.  When this day arrives, nothing much will change on the clothes front, other than they will be a little longer as they are no longer stretched to their limit horizontally.  My jeans will have turn-ups, my jumpers will become sweater dresses and my swimsuit will be illegal and immoral...

With all this dieting and exercise going on, I was thrilled when the husband told me this week that he was going out mountain biking with the other 'man boys' who live nearby. This was planned for Thursday night, and I had assumed that by the time I got back from the pool, he would be gone.  Imagine my surprise then, when I crawled across the threshold, a broken woman, to be faced with a non-Lycra clad husband (this isn't a bad thing actually) who had shaved (rare for a weekday).

'Oh, have you been blown out?' I asked.  Well apparently, the male lightweights around here (husband included) decided it was too cold and too dark.  Isn't it funny how easily we forget that this is what happens in the winter around 7.00pm.... 

So they got a lift down to a local hostelry courtesy of a very patient Mrs B from next door, and eventually crawled back in after midnight having almost despaired of getting a taxi.  Where I live, everything closes when Waitrose turns the car park lights off, so I don't know why they were surprised at this.  I think that I was so knackered after swimming the equivalent of the English Channel, that I didn't wake up when he came into the bedroom on his tippy toes.  Either that or a visit to the hearing aid specialists is on the cards...

To make up for thinking he woke me up (I wasn't going to tell him) the husband walked the fuzzballs for me yesterday morning for which I was very grateful.  It has been so cold this week, and layers upon layers have been necessary for the early morning walk, to avoid being found later in the day stiff as a board with a Joker-style grimace frozen onto my face.  Thursday was particularly bad, but for some reason I had left my hat at home.  Once I had stopped cursing at my stupidity, I got on with it, but the only way I knew my ears hadn't dropped off was the fact that I could hear my teeth chattering like a pneumatic drill.

And so ends another week.  Today I am off to do some retail therapy with daughter number two in Milton Keynes.  I don't really need to buy anything, but I am sure that I will end up carrying a few bags by the end of the afternoon.

Most of these will be hers and would have been paid for by me.

Good old mum....


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