Feeling the fear

All is not good in Peridot’s world. This week I stayed the same – so that’s:

Week 1 - +1
Week 2 - -1
Week 3 – 0

Now, I didn’t have a great weekend – I will disclose 8 truffles and 3 florentines, 2 glasses of champagne (flutes) and 2 glasses of wine. But we did a 2 ½ hour walk in the snow and the sliding about alone made me ache the next day like I haven’t for ages. And it was bitterly cold which is supposed to burn calories. I was too chicken and too flat (yes, the ‘l’ is in there deliberately, it’s not a typo) to track it. I don’t feel like I’m doing very well on the new WW system. I know I’m not eating too much fruit because I’m really restricting it, I know I’m all too often hungry and I know that I’m using my bonus points (as well as some exercise ones sometimes). But I also know that I don’t know what constitutes a good choice and my pps can rocket without me being aware of my making an error (although I do agree with Becca that seafood sticks are an evil, made-up non-food (tasty though!)).

After the snowy, skiddy walk (so weird with the snow and the colours of autumn at the same time) we got back late for lunch and I was starving. I had an emergency mars bar in my walking pack which, despite being really hungry, I managed to resist. So I careered into the cafe with glee, being overly ready for my lunch. It was full. So then we had to go to another cafe where literally all they had were a variety of rolls. Most with melty cheese of one type or another in. I had the only one that wasn’t but it was disappointing since it wasn’t what I wanted and I was reasonably sure was doing me no favours on the pointy front either (one of those I can deal with but both colliding together make me sulky and resentful).

And work is tough at the moment – and lonely. And it’s cold and dark and my period is due and I have a spot and I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself. I was reading a bridal magazine yesterday and looking at a wedding show’s details and I realised I didn’t want to go because I was ashamed of being too fat for a bride and that other (slimmer) women might sneer at me. And/or pity me.

All of this means I want to forget the infuriating and mystifying pps and drink fizz and mulled wine and big glasses of red with hearty meals. And eat canapés and chocolate and mince pies and chocolate log and chocolate.

But I have to be slim enough not to fear wedding dress shopping by next autumn.