It’s been a tough weekend in many respects. Not because I dragged my double arse over a bunch of giant inflatables, I know that was on the cards but sadly it didn’t happen in the end. I got the call on Friday to say my Godmother had taken a turn for the worse, so I cancelled all my plans and I’ve pretty much been with her all weekend.

She’s better, actually, than she was on Friday. I’ve been able to push her outside in a wheelchair over the last couple of days, and we’ve enjoyed a bit of conversation in the sunshine in between her naps, which are becoming more frequent. She’s nearing the end of her life, and I’m so grateful for the extra time we’ve had, because right after Christmas her doctors didn’t think she’d see the spring. I’m not entirely surprised that she’s defied expectations, since she’s never followed a single rule in the whole of her colourful life.

I was ambushed by the Asshole voice in the relatives kitchen at the hospice on Friday night. He’s been very quiet of late, but isn’t it amazing how quick he shoots out of the traps when my defences are low..? I’d gone in to make a cup of tea, and in the middle of the table sat a huge sleeve of Rich Tea biscuits with a handwritten note saying help yourself…for fuck’s sake, I didn’t need asking twice.

In my defence, I was hungry. I’d taken the call early in the afternoon, and rushed straight over there from work. By the time I clocked the biscuits it was around seven hours later and I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. I did a swift calculation…thirty six calories per biscuit. I didn’t think that was too bad, so I made a conscious choice to eat two. The Asshole voice made a pitch for me to liberate the whole packet, on the basis that firstly I wasn’t going to have any proper food because there wasn’t any to hand, and secondly I was upset, which automatically bestows emergency permission for my diet to go to shit.

In the end I stopped at four, which I didn’t think was too bad. Let’s be honest, they’re not the most exciting biscuits in the world, but to me, in that moment they actually tasted like a piece of heaven. I could’ve done the whole sleeve, but I didn’t. Given that my default setting when I’m upset is to feed my face with crap until the crap runs out, I thought four was a bit of a result to be fair.

I had another decent loss this week, did you see? I’m now officially at my lowest weight in years, and I’m breaking new ground. That’s exciting, right?  I’m just hoping that when the inevitable happens I can keep the wheels on. I think I’ll be okay. My heart is hurting but my mind feels strong and those four biscuits haven’t even caused a ripple, much less a bump in the road. I only ate four, which means I walked away from the rest. I’ve seen that packet of biscuits a dozen times since, and it hasn’t tried to seduce me again even once. I’ve got this.

If my posts are a little sporadic this week, please bear with me…I know you’ll understand why.

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