So. Following my fat weight loss post, the following has happened:
On doing a straw poll amongst my extremely honest friends and work colleagues (including the boss), they guessed, as a body, that I am 9 1/2 stone. They were gobsmacked to find that I am significantly more than that (or are we all really in denial?). My friend Alex said that she thinks that either A. I am seriously muscular and they weigh more heavily than fat (this is NOT the case Dear Reader, no muscles to be seen in my stomach area) or B. that Boots skew their scales to weigh more heavily in order to persuade us to buy their slimming products…bless her.
I have also spoken to friends of my own age in their forties and we all seem to be struggling with ‘the bit round the middle’ so it may be that hormones are playing their evil part. Even Mrs Folly who is an ex dancer and exercises very regularly is noticing the difference in the midriff region and many women of my age that I know are giving up variously wheat and dairy in order to rectify things. So whilst that isn’t any excuse, it may be playing a significant part.
In chez moi a large vat of vegetable soup has been made for the midday hunger pangs, the veg garden has been raided for salads and the makings of stir frys and there isn’t a piece of bread in the place. There has been no alcohol consumption this week (ok, ok, I know it’s only Wednesday) and Holby was viewed with only the aid of a glass of water. The knock on effect of all this was that I must have got up 15 times in the night to go to the loo (thankfully TG is away so there was no tutting) and I had a very bizarre dream involving a huge cream and jam sponge…
Onwards and upwards Dear Reader, onwards and upwards.