You know, don’t you, when you wake up brimming with determination that today’s the day you’re going to tip your world the right way up again, but then you go downstairs and eat a mince pie for breakfast that the day is going to be one of those days, where the diet turns to shit before you’ve even left the house.
That mince pie totally set me off on the wrong path this morning. Thirty seconds of heaven, followed by an hour in the car on my morning commute where I sat and sulked at my stupidity, and sang along to no songs on the radio. Not even the Mariah Carey All I Want For Christmas song, during which I normally am Mariah Carey for that brief moment in time, usually at the very top of my lungs.
To add insult to injury, I lifted said mince pie out of its foil jacket on the kitchen counter, right next to my new bathroom scales which are sitting on the counter top impassively – we haven’t eyeballed each other yet – waiting to be programmed. Oh yes that’s right, programmed. User one, name ‘fat knacker’. When I figure out which buttons to press I have to enter my height and my age so it can ruin my day in a bells and whistles kind of way by reporting not only my weight but also my BMI and my water content, although how it knows that is anybody’s guess. I already know we’re not going to see eye to eye.
For the first time today, the Asshole voice tested the water by suggesting that I start again on the first Monday in the New Year. I closed him down immediately of course, good grief if it becomes open season between now and then, I’ll be lumbering into January with some serious regained poundage clinging to my arse. No doubt about it. So I’ll just carry on having these exhausting daily negotiations inside my own head about whether I should/shouldn’t/can/can’t/will/won’t eat whatever the fuck I want.
I know I’ve put more weight on. I can feel it on my body. I just don’t know how much because although my new scales arrived last Wednesday they remain in virgin un-stood-on condition. I tried to programme my details in but it didn’t do what the booklet said it would do when I pressed whatever I was supposed to press, so I gave up immediately and decided to try again later. It’s now eight days later and I’ve just not quite worked my way around to having another go.
Avoidance tactics…self-sabotage…mince pies for breakfast. I’m being a pillock.
But I’m still trying. I’m not giving up, and I’m definitely not starting over on the first Monday after New Year. I’m starting again today.
Have a great weekend folks…before you go, I’m delighted to share a new guest post on my Thoughts From The Posse page…thank you Jamie for sharing your story, and I’m sure you guys will pitch in with your support like you always do… 🙂
