Okay, normal service will now resume. You might take issue with the word ‘service’, as indeed do I, but you know what I mean. Normal meandering rubbish will now resume perhaps!
Sorry about the self-indulgent post yesterday. A blog is a funny thing, it’s not a diary but sometimes I treat it as such. And I shouldn't. All those thoughts and feelings are normally damped right down, repressed into a small kernel inside which I ignore. But sometimes the kernel sprouts (to continue a poor analogy) and its shoots wrap around me and choke me.
The only thing I should whinge about on here is weight, right? So here we go!
I put on 1 ¼ lb this week. That, dear Reader, is worth whinging about. It brings my loss to 2lbs in 5 weeks. I think I am going to have to accept that I will be a fat bride. I can honestly say I’ve been putting the effort in but clearly I’m having my usual ‘success’. It means that getting a dress will be hard, being able to look at myself in said (very expensive) dress will fill me with disappointment and self-loathing, that the photos are likely to cause me pain and humiliation. And I’m going to have to get on with that and get some tactics in place to deal with it as best I can and without dragging anyone down into my unhappiness.
I need more than a few hours of sleep to come up with anything though (and when I did sleep, I had nightmares about the dress – and that was before the WI). But I will.
PS Thanks Gabby and Seren: but really it is me. I bet you P's forgotten all about this now - it's a fresh day for him; he's annoyed about something, says so unequivocally and can admittedly be a bit of a git, is off with me and then moves on. I agonise over it like a melodramatic Victorian heroine.