I haven't lost anything this week, I hate it when that happens. It's a real de-motivator, putting in all the effort for no benefit. I've even had an illness to help me. Losing weight used to be the best part of being ill, well, second best after time off work, but no, nothing, I should have taken the medicine after all.
I suppose the reason is that I spent a lot of time sat around or in bed not getting any exercise. I missed karate and haven't been to the gym. I've been avoiding the gym anyway, one of the instructors found out about this blog and has decided to help me out with my diet. He asked when I was next in and said he'd get me doing some circuits with him. Great, I said, and haven't been back since. I'm going to have to find out his shift patterns and avoid him, or I could plant something incriminating in his locker so he gets the sack and I can start going back again.
It seems quite a few people read these diet diaries, and those people always seem to be around when I'm about to eat something. We had a party for my wife's 30th Birthday. I took on my usual duty of being first to the buffet, and almost straight-away the words "I'm watching you!" thundered accross the room, as I looked round I was confronted by one of my wife's friends laughing away telling me she'd seen me in the paper. I sat down with my plate and just as I went to have my first mouthful another voice shouted, "I hope that's all you're having!". If everyone carried out their threats, the Herald mailbag will be full this week. I'm going to have to open my version of the 19th century opium dens; a calorie den for the overweight of Tamworth. As the night passed, my cares evaporated with my sobriety. And now as the night's memories rematerialise, I realise why I didn't lose anything this week.
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