SoD reluctantly told me that I'd lost 1lb and 3/4 yesterday. Initially due to my extremely dodgy maths, I thought it was 2lbs 3/4 and got quite excited; I may even have skipped. But I can cope with 1lb 3/4 - or, at least, I could if it were a regular thing (I'm talking weekly!). Actually this takes me to the distinctly unimpressive total of 3lbs and 3/4 in the last 8 weeks. And I'm still 5lbs heavier than before Christmas. I know I can only keep plodding away and try not to think of this or it will all seem unbearable and I'll freak out. Less than 2lbs a month is quite spectacularly rubbish and really doesn't reflect the effort I put in - and certainly isn't going to get me to the size where I can meet my own eye in the mirror, let alone strip to next to nothing in a wedding shop and be shoe-horned into dresses intended for the slender and pretty, highlighting all my inadequacies and broadcasting my shame. Still, that will be my lot next month and I've run out of time for avoiding it so will just have to take it on the chin (or paunch).
This weekend is a danger zone for dieting - we're going to stay with friends in Devon. We're eating at theirs on Friday and Saturday nights so it will be harder to avoid carbs than in a restaurant for example. And breakfasts always seem to be tricky. I know I will do the best I can because I've actually got pretty good at resisting things I shouldn't eat - I don't fear for my willpower but just for my ability to choose. I will not be a picky guest though, I will appreciate all the hard work that will have been put into entertaining us with good grace. And then face SoD all over again.