Lost in Austen

I lost nothing this week. I was expecting it because of the wedding breakfast tasting, but that’s not to say it isn’t disappointing. That makes my total loss for January 2.5lbs (admittedly that’s only for 3 weeks) which is pretty pathetic. At this rate, I’ll only have lost the weight I put on for Christmas by Easter – and I’d only just lost the weight I put on in American by Christmas. There’s a pattern forming... It’s not a pretty one and it's not helping with Operation Wedding Dress.

But this week I don’t have any hurdles that I know of. Granted, I was out last night with friends but was able to eat completely compliantly. And that’s it for me this week. Let’s see what impact that has on the scales next Wednesday (and cross all digits).

In other news I have realised I am a perfume snob. I had severe misgivings about my current scent and only tried it because a friend whose taste I trusted completely urged me to do so. But I had it down as a ‘celebrity perfume’, the concept of which I hate. And okay it’s not Eau de Mariah Carey or Essence of Paris Hilton – being instead a relatively blameless Stella McCartney – but I was still very resistant. But I liked it, annoyingly enough. A couple of weeks ago, with all social niceties sandblasted from my soul by a particularly wearisome day, I was in the lift in the development in which I live with a neighbour I only very vaguely recognise; she smelt lovely and I told her so! She produced Vera Wang’s Princess perfume from her bag as an explanation. I snuck into House of Fraser to try it on yesterday: Reader, I liked it. But I can’t bring myself to buy a pink coloured perfume, in a heart shaped bottle, called something as simpering as ‘Princess.

In other other news: I have been gorging on Persuasion this week. It gives me the same slightly dazed, almost hypnotised, certainly mesmerised, totally immersed feeling that Twilight does. Jane Austen will now - justifiably - be revolving furiously in her grave at being compared to Stephanie Meyers. I finished the book on Wednesday and, with an evening when P(ookie) was out, I watched the BBC adaptation with Rupert Penry-Jones. I do not, as a rule, find blonde men attractive but he really was a most fetching Austen hero. It got me wondering who my ultimate Austen hero is. Obviously I grow up smitten with Darcy (although that smouldering moodiness can’t be easy to live with), but Wentworth does have his own appeal (I may or may not be influenced by Penry-Jones in breeches and boots) – I give you: “you pierce my soul”, SWOON. I started wondering who P(ookie) is most like – definitely a lot of Mr Knightley (strong held beliefs (maybe a bit tactless) and not afraid of telling you where you’re going wrong. And loving you anyway) with a dash of Henry Tilney (very practical and sensible – slightly bemused at falling for an over-imaginative, over-sensitive woman). Luckily I like Knightley too. Even though my friend calls him a “groomer” – 16 years ffs! There’s 12 between P(ookie) and me and I see nothing sinister in it! At least he's not an Edmund Bertram or an Edward Ferrars - nothing wrong with them, just... a bit.... wet.