Saturday, 21 January 2017

Who's laughing now...

I think that my stomach, mouth and derriere have joined forces to make dieting as difficult as possible for me.  I have this theory that two of them believe that the more the mouth does in the way of eating, then the less the stomach and derriere will be forced to do exercise, for fear of the elastic giving up the ghost in my yoga pants.

But I am fighting my corner stoically, and have said 'No' to so many things this week.  Mainly joy and happiness, but I mustn't get bitter, just fitter and less wide.  Now I always weigh in on a Friday as it means that if I have a foody weekend, then I have at least four days to claw my waistline back.  So I was genuinely quite excited about getting on the bathroom scales yesterday morning.  Stripping down to the altogether (don't hold that image too long as it will put you off your breakfast) I gingerly stepped onto the scales, one foot at a time, slowly and carefully, exhaling as I did so (every little helps).  I did this three more times, until I finally accepted that the scales were showing a pathetic 2lb reduction. 

2lbs?  That couldn't be right.  I'd been living on salad, water and fresh air all week.  I've walked the equivalent of Hadrian's Wall and done Pilates.  I have deprived myself of anything vaguely gorgeous and weighed and measured every last morsel which has passes my poor dissatisfied lips.  Surely there must be a mistake?  I then took the scales downstairs and put new batteries in, just in case they were on the way out. Back upstairs with the scales, same palaver getting on the damn things, and then the moment of truth.  2lbs...

OK, so it's not a disaster.  I know that there will be loads of you saying that 2lbs a week is a good loss, and that I am less likely to put it back on again, and of course you're right.  But there's a little bit of me which wishes it was like the old days, when a good week on Weight Watchers equated to a half stone of ugly fat gone.  I blame the menopause, well I have to blame something, and this seems as good a scapegoat as any.  Mother Nature sure has a warped sense of humour, but you don't see me laughing...

Not unless it burns off as many calories as an hour in my Pilates class...


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