Hello newly gained pound…meet the rest of my body. I’d like to say you’re very welcome but at the risk of being rude, don’t unpack your bags because actually you’re not welcome here, in fact you can just fuck right off. I mean where did you even come from..?

Something tells me I need to do an autopsy on the week because this can’t happen, right? For the first time in six months I am fatter today than I was this time last week. I’m gutted…but having had a quick flick through the week maybe it’s a lesson learned. And to be fair I have to own it. I got complacent.

Last weekend I headed south for a visit with my best buddy, was treated to a lovely Sunday lunch out, and had a handful or two of snacks in the evening which I pointed and counted. When I say pointed and counted I mean sort of guessed. Snacks I hadn’t tried before, with nutritional info on the bag which I didn’t even look at so to my shame I can’t even try and blag an educated guess. Just a plain old common-or-garden guess.

On Monday I had no breakfast, but where I’d normally eat fruit or something mid-morning in the office, I just had a couple of latte coffees during the day whilst we were working and then dinner in my hotel. Sensible choice, chicken caesar salad and I asked for the dressing on the side, which came in a jug…going well so far. Quite a large jug if I’m honest and not only did I pour it all on, I seem to remember scraping out what was left with a piece of lettuce to make sure I didn’t miss any. I don’t imagine the duck pancakes appetiser helped my daily points total either, which for the second day running was a wild guess.

Tuesday, I tucked into a generous breakfast in my hotel, more confidently pointed since it was familiar food. But definitely generous, on the basis that we would be working through lunchtime. I ate a late afternoon snack, a wrap bought from the deli next door…only guessable in terms of points. Then three large glasses of red at the bloggy folk social, oh and let’s not forget two cheese balls.

The rest of the week wasn’t bad in terms of food choices, with the exception of the whole sleeve of Jaffa Cakes which I’ve already ‘fessed up about. Is this a good time to mention that I’ve not been near my hurt machine in over a week..? And yesterday was the first time I’ve been out walking for any real distance with Charlie dog.

It’s been a busy week but that doesn’t make it any different to most of my weeks so I’m not even going to try that excuse. Fact is, I have no excuse, and the days of trying to cobble one together are long gone. I got complacent, cocky, whatever you want to call it, and the bitch in the bathroom has given me a good kicking because of it. I got what I deserved based on the week I put in – sometimes you look at the number on the scale and life feels unfair because you tried so hard, right? Not this week. This week, much as it galls me, the bitch had a point.

I’ve talked before, a lot, about worrying that if I stepped out of the sweet spot I’d be terrified I wouldn’t get back in. That if I wasn’t perfect all the time I’d get jettisoned out into the bad lands of cheese balls and chocolate to fend for myself. But that’s not where I’m at, in fact nowhere near. I didn’t fall off the wagon, I just didn’t pay enough attention that’s all and the short sharp shock which this newly acquired pound of lard has served up today was my come to Jesus moment.

Bitch, I see your pound and raise you…rematch next Sunday and come prepared to eat dirt 🙂

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I never cease to be amazed by the way that the inner workings of my head conspire sometimes to throw a rusty nail under the wheels of my momentum. It’s ridiculous and it just drives home to me how much of a work in progress I really am.

As the blog continues to grow and new people find us, and as my weight loss slowly becomes a bit more noticeable, I’ve enjoyed more than my fair share of genuine support and compliments lately, you know? But it’s probably fair to say that lovely as they are, they’ve lulled me into a false sense of security. This isn’t easy. And I don’t have it in the bag.

This week is a case in point. I clearly didn’t learn from the last time my subscription notifications were invaded by gremlins – nobody died, and eventually the issue got fixed after winding me right up for a couple of days. It works perfectly maybe three times out of five, so it needs constant attention, and this must be the third or fourth time it’s gone tits up completely but it always gets resolved eventually…nothing to get in a sweat about, right?

So how come last night, during a long and frustrating exchange of emails between me and the technical folk who host my blog, for whom English doesn’t seem to be their first language and who can’t seem to understand what the issue is, I thought that eating an entire sleeve of Jaffa Cakes would somehow help make the situation better?

Twenty four smart points – out of a daily allowance of 38 – spent on crap for no reason other than I was pissed off that I couldn’t get anyone to just bloody fix it. I couldn’t even go back and double-check in my weight watchers thingamabob that I had enough weekly points left to cover my wobble, because this false sense of security has seen me more and more often totting things up in my head instead of using the tools I have to hand.

The tools are there to keep right on top of what I’m eating. My head on the other hand has a very selective memory, ably assisted by the asshole and although I’m quite good at sums, I’m even better at forgetting what’s on the list of stuff I’ve eaten that needs to be added up. So I think I had enough weekly points left to get away with the Jaffa Cakes but it’s really twisting my melon that I won’t know for sure.

Just look at how many my buttons are available for pushing right now. Control, because I can’t make it work. Patience, as in I don’t have any and it’s been broken for three days now. Frustration, because I can’t make the clever blokes understand what’s wrong and they keep asking me the same questions and going round in a loop with the same answers which don’t bloody fix it, and most of all the fact that it’s not perfect is driving me bat-shit crazy.

So it turned me into a basket case and resulted in the unfortunate incident with a sleeve of Jaffa Cakes that I don’t especially even like, I mean they’re chewy and sweet and all that but have never been one of my go to foods. The dog, who was sitting on my knee as I sulked in the armchair and fed my face with one after the other watched closely but he wore a resigned look and didn’t even bother to drool, I mean his doggy intuition told him that none of them had his name on.

They weren’t worth it. And the fact that I’d vaporised a year’s supply just added to my very sour mood. Eating the Jaffa Cakes was never going to resolve the issue, and the sodding thing is indeed still on the blink. Me, I’ve kicked the rusty nail to the side of the path and today I’ll keep on moving forward.

More importantly I’ll keep on doing the work, because times like this show me exactly how far I still have to go 🙁

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