Weight: 124.4
Gain: 0.1kg
Thoughts: Damn you food!
When losing weight, I suppose there is always an internal debate about what to do when you know you have a heavy weekend on its way. I faced this very dilemma last weekend.
My sister has recently had a new baby boy called Joe, and this weekend we popped down to That London to meet him. He is a little sweetie ( naturally he takes after his uncle - look: we even have the same facial expressions when hungry!) I knew that this weekend would be my first major challenge. Suffice to say my food diary reads a bit like John Prescott's dinner order, especially considering my brother-in-law is a keen wine buff.
I have always stated my weight loss regime is a marathon rather than a sprint. Previously, I have given up on diets in a big strop because either a: I couldn't eat what everyone else wanted and I felt like crap, b: I DID eat what everyone else did and grew a third buttock or c: I became so stressed trying to work out what I COULD eat that I tried to end it all by jumping into a catering size bag of pork scratchings.
My beloved and long suffering partner has said to me from the start that I shouldn't get OCD about this weight loss thing (I don't know what he's talking about. Me? Obsessive?) but I really took his point to heart this weekend. I knew I was well overdrawn on my calorie count (seriously: it's obscene) but I STILL counted the calories, because if I only count the days where I behave myself then I am just lying to myself. (And the good people at My Fitness Pal. Who I think could easily get violent)
Before stepping on the scales this morning, I told myself not to go totally yoyo if I had put on a tonne of blubber. And yay.
I didn't.
On we go....
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