The sun shone and I made merry. A little too merry. I carefully weighed out 28g of Easter egg chocolate - then the next day I ate the rest of the shell. And I ate some of bf's peanuts. I don't think I was disasterously over but I am pretty sure I was conclusively over. We did 2 long walks - one of c12 miles and one of c9 miles. But it wasn't that - the excuse for being a bit lax. I just had one of those phases of being really weary with dieting all the time - and not getting the results. WI is tomorrow and will reveal all - including the fall out from my butter-rage I should think.
So, despite a weekend coming up away from the diet, I must not collapse into freefall calorie consumption.
But this evening bf has told me that he's fed up of me dieting - that we don't go out anymore because of it and I won't even share a bottle of wine with him (true - I only ever have 1 glass although I take issue with the going out bit). I can see that dieting does not make you fun company; I really do appreciate that. But then he tells me that I'm fat. Also true. But how to reconcile these two things - it beats me. There were other home truths (I'm messy and a hoarder (true) and meek (also true - can't imagine this is ever going to mean me inheriting the earth as I'd be too diffident to actually take it -"No, really, I couldn't, you have it")). I'm steeling myself to throw alot of stuff away (which makes me sad but there we go), but I cannot for the life of me see how I can be slim (a knotty, frustrating and constant problem at the best of times) and also drink and eat to the tune of his lifestyle.
I'm accepting that I'm going to have to bid a permanent farewell to chocolate (my personal choice of treat) in order to be more 'fun' with alcohol. But as a friend has warned me, it's a tightrope over the abyss of drunken 'sod-it' where I'll eat all the things I want whilst under the influence. Maybe he'd be a bit more tolerant if I were actually slim but it's not for want of trying.
More than ever (and he'd HATE this) I want to feel that he thinks he's getting a good deal in marrying me. Maybe I've read too many cheesy case studies where the man expresses awe and feelings of luck in bagging their bride. I'm pretty sure that he thinks I've got the better end of the bargain. I also want - oh how I want - him to look at me on our wedding day (assuming we get there at this rate as I feel pretty insecure about this at the moment) and think I'm, well, if not beautiful, at least attractive. At the moment he just sees fat. This doesn't make him a bad person, I think it's what most people see. I'd like to think there was more to me than this. But perhaps none of that matters.