Goddamn Sainsbury’s and their boxes of marked down Quality Street. Exploiting my lack of willpower in all its glory.
I nailed a whole box in ONE DAY. When usually a box of Quality Street should be something that is shared amongst friends, family or perhaps work colleagues, I sat there and gorged on the lot. Aside from the toffee pennies as quite frankly their non-chocolatey existence offends me.
Week 3 of Mission Impossible did bring some success. The set of weights that have been collecting dust for the last year underneath my sofa saw the light of day, although I forgot how much one aches the following day after exercise.
I’d made a promise to myself to start doing some sit ups and managed 100 a day last week. I hate sit ups with a passion. When it comes to exercise; sit ups and squats are the dreaded 2 for me without a shadow of doubt. But, if I want to see something that resembles abs once again then I just have to suck it up and get on with it. Even if it hurt to sit down at one point last week.
There’s nothing more jealousy inducing than hearing about someone go on about their fast metabolism. Why can’t I have one of those? I’d pay good money for it I tell you.
Friday morning I woke up with the biggest amount of guilt and regret. I liken it to when I go out of a Saturday evening and drink far too much wine and make a tit of myself. That feeling of dread that runs through my body on a Sunday morning is palpable.
Anyway, I’d done so well with my diet on Monday through to Thursday evening. I’d eaten plenty of protein, stuck well within the 1200 calories a day I’m aiming to consume and was actually feeling quite good.
Thursday is soon upon me and I’m out for a meal with friends. The chosen location is an Italian restaurant which happens to be a favourite of mine. I know the menu like I know the back of my hand. Before I’ve even perched myself down on the seat I know what I’m having. Pizza and lots of it. Not forgetting the deep fried mozzarella for starters too. My greedy little mouth also found itself muttering the following words “a glass of Pinot Grigio with soda water please”. Twice.
Guilt, shame and remorse was commonplace throughout Friday, although it must have worn off at some point because Friday was Quality Street day. I’m a dieting disaster aren’t I?
The weekend soon rolls round (talking of rolls, I managed to find an ounce of willpower from somewhere because I declined the offer of a bacon roll) and out comes the wine and the crisps and dip and before I know it I’ve had 4 plates of tapas, several glasses of wine and once again Mission Impossible has taken flight and left the vicinity.
So, what did the scales of doom tell me this week? I hear you cry. Well, if you were a betting (wo)man, I’m sure you’d put money on the fact there was a gain wouldn’t you and if you had, you’d have lost your cash because I did in fact lose weight this week.
I know, I’m in shock too. I celebrated with the biggest roast dinner you’ve ever seen along with a huge bowl of Krave. I bloody love weigh in day.
OK, so the loss was the definition of a small win (less than a measly pound) but still the number on the scales of doom are going down as opposed to up and I’ll take that.
I know I seriously have to up my game if I want to reach my target weight by the end of September. I have 9lbs left to lose and losing less than 1lb a week isn’t brilliant. Thus, I’ve challenged myself to reach 134lbs by August 20th. Lots of walking, lots of sit ups and no more gluttony (even on weigh in day) is on the agenda. I might even have to get out my old trusty Davina McCall DVD to assist. My son absolutely loves doing that exercise DVD and if anyone can whip my arse into shape it’s him. If I even dare to have a 5 second break on the sofa during the sweat fest then he’s pulling me up and ordering me to get working out again. I swear a career as a Personal Trainer beckons for him.
Current Weight: 139lbs
Goal Weight: 130lbs