Fat bottomed girl on bike

Well, I know there was a wagon hereabouts but I've not seen it for days - I can no longer even see the dustclouds on the horizon. Every day I struggle back on, only to be bucked off in manner of bronco. Which comes first - feeling sad and then eating or eating and then feeling sad? I suspect it's all of the above and more of a vicious circle than a chicken-egg conundrum.

Bf has been grouchy all weekend after a few days away. He was in a bad mood because he had an awful journey home on Saturday which led to some criticism of my behaviour at friends on Saturday night (saying the wrong thing, not picking up on signs that he wanted to go - and that my friend wanted us to go - then trying to talk to him on the way home which is apparently 'clingy' (he did apologise for this, he had bad stomach ache), then yesterday I did not fill his glass of water when I filled mine which lead to a rant on my selfishness (still think this was an over-reaction) and then today I'd asked him to do something to my old bike which equally caused a spurt of bad temper including the accusation that I read too much - I sit on the sofa and read when I should be bettering myself apparently (by learning bike-craft). So I ate a packet of Percy pigs, despite their little swollen pink faces which should have reminded me of the direction I'm headed in and despite the fact that they actually contain pig - yuck! And a packet of smarties' eggs and a thorntons lemon bar. The sad thing is that the sugar actually is soothing even though I know that getting fatter makes me very unhappy and erodes my not terribly robust self esteem.

Becoming a cyclist is not easy - and that's before I've even started pedalling. Bf wheeled my bike in (3 miles) to be serviced last week and they took one look and declared it terminal. I thought it was a bike but apparently it's a ball of rust. Which would be cheaper to replace than repair. So I had to go and pick it up and wheel it home - I was practically crying when I got in, I was so tired and achy. It's an odd posture you have to adopt to wheel a bike and I'd walked 3 miles in the morning and a mile or so at lunchtime and then the 3 miles with the bike. In calf-length boots - my little toes were scarlet when I took my boots off. Back to the cycle shop on Saturday to chose a bike - I need a women's one or I will certainly trip over the crossbar, and I need a small one since I'm only 5'4'' and short-legged (sigh). It causes problems as bike manufacturers make the assumption that women are longer legged than men and they make bikes accordingly. I was definitely short-changed in the leg department, sadly. This is the bike I'd really, really like:

Can you see the adorable tulips painted on? It's retro-tastic. But it's also £325 more than the bike I'm probably getting which is this:

Which is rather dull. They don't make mainstream bikes - especially women's bikes - in good colours. Still, at least it's not pink I suppose. White is still a bit girly for me! Ideally I'd have it in lime green or hot orange. Or purple maybe.... Anyway, if it will transform me into a slender, toned creature I will love it, regardless of its colour, as a miracle worker (and regardless of its impact on my hair - prepared to trade tidy hair for slim, muscled legs and arse). Hmmm, I may be investing too much hope in this bike!