the bossa nova...
I blame it on the palazzo pants.
Elasticated to be precise.
After a lovely father, daughter
birthday treat trip to the top of the Shard
on Saturday, I left Ted to have a Sunday morning lie-in.
In the mouse-creeping quiet of the early morning, at a loss as to
what badness to get up to, I decided to clamber into the loft over
the garage, to retrieve the scales.
A bad idea... very bad!
Since last August, we've been religiously
following the fasting diet.
Every Tuesday and Thursday we
restrict our calories.
We even managed to fit the fasting in over Christmas
and New Year.
Full of confidence, I decided from now on, the scales,
were surplus to requirements.
Over the last couple of weeks I've tried not to notice
the ever so slowly creeping podgy cheeks, as I slap
on the ole artifice called make-up.
If you'll pardon the expression, it came to a head,
in the hours before dawn, when I crept down, had a widdle
and caught sight of the wobbly jowls that passed the mirror.
I stopped, peered, and the horrible realisation hit me
square between the eyes...
'You're getting fat Lin!'
With Ted safely slumbering, I could get the steps out and
shoe-horn myself into the attic, without him fussing.
Back down came the scales.
Over in the studio, I squeezed out another wee,
just wishing I could do the other necessary, to lighten the load.
(Those in the slimming loop will realise the ramifications!)
Peeling off every stitch (no fear of Donald appearing this time)
as naked as the day
I tentatively climbed on the scales.
Six frigging pounds, yes
6 lbs...since Christmas.
Don't panic...
'Yes do fecking panic!'
Why? Because on Saturday I've got two
trained killer friends
(always sounds more exciting that way, they're actually
Royalty protection officers - retired) coming for dinner.
And worse than that, she is as fit as a butcher's dog; a frigging personal trainer, to boot, who will cast her beady eye over my quaking, quivering bod and say...
'Let yourself go I see Linda!'
Gawd! What to do now?
☠☹☹☻☹☹☠
I blame it on the palazzo pants.
Elasticated to be precise.
After a lovely father, daughter
birthday treat trip to the top of the Shard
on Saturday, I left Ted to have a Sunday morning lie-in.
In the mouse-creeping quiet of the early morning, at a loss as to
what badness to get up to, I decided to clamber into the loft over
the garage, to retrieve the scales.
A bad idea... very bad!
Since last August, we've been religiously
following the fasting diet.
Every Tuesday and Thursday we
restrict our calories.
We even managed to fit the fasting in over Christmas
and New Year.
Full of confidence, I decided from now on, the scales,
were surplus to requirements.
Over the last couple of weeks I've tried not to notice
the ever so slowly creeping podgy cheeks, as I slap
on the ole artifice called make-up.
If you'll pardon the expression, it came to a head,
in the hours before dawn, when I crept down, had a widdle
and caught sight of the wobbly jowls that passed the mirror.
I stopped, peered, and the horrible realisation hit me
square between the eyes...
'You're getting fat Lin!'
With Ted safely slumbering, I could get the steps out and
shoe-horn myself into the attic, without him fussing.
Back down came the scales.
Over in the studio, I squeezed out another wee,
just wishing I could do the other necessary, to lighten the load.
(Those in the slimming loop will realise the ramifications!)
Peeling off every stitch (no fear of Donald appearing this time)
as naked as the day
I tentatively climbed on the scales.
Six frigging pounds, yes
6 lbs...since Christmas.
Don't panic...
'Yes do fecking panic!'
Why? Because on Saturday I've got two
trained killer friends
(always sounds more exciting that way, they're actually
Royalty protection officers - retired) coming for dinner.
And worse than that, she is as fit as a butcher's dog; a frigging personal trainer, to boot, who will cast her beady eye over my quaking, quivering bod and say...
'Let yourself go I see Linda!'
Gawd! What to do now?
☠☹☹☻☹☹☠
haha - I've just got off the scales after over a year of avoiding them. I had to because I signed up to an on-line diet plan and it had the cheek to ask my weight. Shock horror! I knew I was steadily gaining weight over the period but the sight of me in photos taken during my Australian daughter's visit last week showed that for the first time in my life I am actually FAT. Rather more than just 6lbs worth, so starting a proper diet today. Wishing us both luck.
ReplyDeleteOh dear, it's so blooming hard, can't say I've started a diet today, although have walked 11,000 steps... does that count?
DeleteLLX
Just throw away the scales Lin I did!
ReplyDeleteSeriously considering it Jayne.
DeleteLLX
Huh. I've been on a diet for five years. I started off at 16 stone, and I'm now 16 stone. But I'm quite happy with my progress.
ReplyDeleteMade me laugh. At least you are treading water, whereas I'm fasting two days a week and managing to put ON weight.
DeleteLLX
Get thee to a nunnery whence nun's rations will ensure a diminution of blubber. This will probably take till the autumn but you will look sexy in a holy habit and wimple. In fact, why not wear your new outfit when the butcher's dog arrives for her bones?
ReplyDeleteDon't you have to be a virgin? Holy rabbit and dimple sounds like a trendy gastro-pub?
DeleteLLX
I'm in the same boat, except that my end is in danger of letting the water lap over the sides. What's to be done?! I have tried not caring and continuing to eat chocolate biscuits, but the fact is that I do not like the ugly blubber. Why can't you buy will power?
ReplyDeleteSTOP PRESS... Willpower... BOGOF at Little or is that Lidl?
DeleteLLX
Giving up booze did the trick for me!
ReplyDeleteSadly, Mr N is drinking for two now - he says he has to because I'm such a boring prig now.
What booze? Didn't you know I'm a founder member of the Temperance Society?
DeleteLLX
You must keep using the scales, but only the electronic ones, and weigh yourself every morning after peeing and before eating or drinking. The reading you get will determine what you eat or choose not to eat each day. It's a slowly but surely process, (just as you put on weight, thus will you remove it). No alcohol makes me lose it, (and weight too). And then, (it may sound obvious), just eat less at each meal, and you train your stomach, so that it just can't take anymore. 4 or 5 years since I lost 12 kilos, I have now lost a further 3, or 2 on a good day.
ReplyDelete...sorry a further 2, or 3 on a good day. But whose counting? Well me, of course.
ReplyDelete