So everyone in my office had fish and chips today. Except me. I had chicken chilli soup from Crussh which was very nice but the smell of the vinegar drove me mad and made me feel rather sulky and deprived. Bf said that after my “tough week” we should have an Indian takeaway tonight; I’ve said thanks but no thanks (which makes me feel a bit mean). He even started on the ‘well, if you just have plain chicken then...’ but I couldn’t resist a nan so I don’t want to give myself the illusion of choice. And since we’re going out for tea tomorrow and lunch on Sunday (the latter of which I have chosen my options for in advance and – pudding excepted – can have an utterly virtuous meal), I need to be careful at all other times. I’m 2lbs up on where I was 2 weeks ago and this means to hit my goal, I have to lose 9lbs in 3 weeks. Yes, well.
I think it’s age but my body seems keen to try to get knocked up. For about a week every month, my most senior of bosses seems almost irresistible. It’s one of those times when I’m thankful that I’m not attractive: if he showed the slightest interest, I’m sure my hormones would be screeching “Go on! Shag him! No-one will know!”, trying to drown out my good sense, strong moral code and loyalty to a v beloved bf. Which I'm - thankfully - sure would actually win out. The other three weeks he’s just a pleasant, middle aged man. - but for one week a month, he's a love god! Ha ha ha! All very odd because I have absolutely no desire to have children, but my hormones clearly are trying to over-ride this in a last ditch attempt.
It shows how strong very primitive instincts can be though; I’m not sure exactly what instinct is coming to the fore when I want to eat myself through times of panic or stress, but I’m pretty sure it’s one of those deep-buried, knee-jerk things that make it all the more difficult to control. And I’m at a loss to know how to do that. Debbie - you seem to have a good handle on this so I'll keep reading your words of wisdom and hope they rub off on me.
As for the Naughty Wedding – Alice is of course right that every globule of fat lost can only be a good thing (and of course the only other option is unacceptable), but I would like to be less self-conscious and better dressed than it is currently possible to be.
(PS Ish – I have no idea what a McWheatie is (nor does Beth who is usually my lexicon on all things American). It sounds rather dull and dry – like a digestive or something - but am happy to be educated! Especially if I can’t actually sample one and thus take on the calories)