So it seems that there’s a bit more to this writing a book malarkey than I’d anticipated. Holy shit is there ever. Having said that, I’ve had some really positive feedback on the stuff I pulled together and I just want to get cracking now. Honestly, it’s been an amazing experience. My head is full of things that I didn’t know on Friday, and now I do. I just need a bit of down-time to process everything, you know? I’m knackered.
When I finally settled down last night I had every intention of telling you all about it but I ended up doing that thing where I woke up at 3am with my cheek stuck to the laptop which was next to me on the bed. I didn’t get home until late afternoon, and then I’d thrown my bags in the door and headed straight out for a swim. I’ve done so much sitting around this weekend in one workshop after another, I just had this urge to head out and go do something active. Who might have guessed that urge was ever going to take over this body, eh?
One of the non-writing related things I learned this weekend was that it’s much easier not to succumb to the temptation of pudding after half a bottle of Merlot, if you’ve told everyone before the wine starts speaking on your behalf that you don’t eat puddings. It’s a genius strategy, because you can’t then eat a pudding without looking like a muppet, right?
At the gala meal, as everyone else’s sticky toffee pudding arrived I waved mine away…I had to, even though I wanted to weep. It looked all kinds of awesome, and the wine was quite persuasive but there’d been so much chatter over dinner about who was writing what, the whole of our table knew I was writing a book about being on a diet. It was a very effective antidote to the fuck it mentality that I usually fall victim to when I’ve had a couple of glasses of wine.
I did have a couple of dark chocolates with my coffee, on the basis that I’d passed on the pudding, but all things considered I think that was okay. There were seven mealtimes over the course of the weekend, and I’m proud to say I behaved myself at every single one of them. I drank my water. I stayed away from naughty. I passed the test.
I’m still locked in a stand-off with the Shitbird scale mind you. We’re playing that game of who’s going to blink first. I brought my weigh-in forward by two days, because I was going to be away on Sunday morning, and I hadn’t lost a fucking ounce since the last time. Again. I also did a cheeky hop-on this morning to see whether the needle had moved over the weekend…it hadn’t.
I’m not going to be the one who blinks first. Not a chance. I’m going to put in textbook day after textbook day until the Shitbird thing rolls over and offers up a loss. I’m on a mission, remember? 215lbs by Christmas. I keep repeating it over and over like a mantra. And when I get there that means I’ll have less than 70lbs to go before I cross the Skinny Town county line.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy 🙂
