See, here's the thing. When embarking on a mad and generally irritating scheme that depends solely on your ability to stick to a routine, the patience and help of those around you and your own bastard-stubbornness, weekdays are good. Weekdays - at least if you're lucky enough to be employed in this insane economic climate - are structured: you have to get up at a certain time, go to work, have lunch within a set window, come home at a certain time, and so on. Within those parameters, you try and crowbar in some activity, to get your heart going and your fat burning and yadda yadda yadda.
Then you get to the weekend. The weekend is freedom, and freedom from the working week is wonderful for the couch-potato in your soul, because if you don't want to, you don't have to get up at any particular time; in fact, you don't have to get out of bed all weekend unless you really want to.
Yesterday, I was lucky - I still had to get up, because we had a grocery delivery booked. What's more, I had to get dressed and leave the house, to pick up some diabetic meds. So I was up and dressed and out, and so I was able, still, to get some walking into Saturday. Last night, again, freed from the restrictions of an ordinary weekday, d cooked her traditional family pizza (and also a goulash for today), and I ate more of this bready delight than I should have - simply because a) it was gorgeous, and b) my brain was tricked by the broken routine into (and really, I'm not as stupid as this makes me sound), forgetting I was doing this whole thing. I followed up the pizza with a bowl of the goulash at around 10PM - about two to three hours later than I've been eating all week. So suddenly I was back to feeling huge and bloated and like a grumpy Humpty Dumpty when I went to lay down to sleep. Technically of course, no rules were broken, and I didn't exactly gorge myself on deep fried angel wings dipped in chocolate, but still, while the food was glorious, the feeling was painful and moderately dispiriting.
Today, I slept till about midday, and have spent the day in my nightgown (Oh yes, I'm a style guru, me - have a thermal, Edwardian-style nightgown. Am resisting the idea of a pointy nightcap and pom-pom slippers with every fibre of my being), doing fun, creative things (making progress on my novel, mainly), but not, in fact, moving my planet-sized arse off the couch. I've also, just for the fun of the record, been watching small, freakish Australians cook amazing food most of the day (Junior Australian Masterchef - did I mention d loves to cook?), to the point where I'm seriously thinking about flying out to Australia to slap the little Wunderkinder senseless for tormenting me with brandy snap baskets, four-tier chocolate cakes and millefeuille all day! Oh and by the way, Buddy Valastro, if I ever get to Hoboken, I'm gonna come and head-butt you through the wall, Cake Boss!!
(Sighs deeply, takes several cleansing breaths). Where was I? Oh yeah, so I've spent the day sitting on my arse watching people make cakes, and occasionally eating, when d has brought me food. (Could I be more of a Sultan, waited on hand and foot?). No exercise whatsoever today. Hardly moved enough to justify breathing, really.
It's now quarter to nine in the evening and I'm thinking seriously about finally plugging in the exercise bike (like I promised to do at the start of this adventure, remember?), and maybe pedalling slowly for a couple of hours while we watch people do DIY on TV. (I've never been sure whether the correlation between watching people cook and d cooking is supposed to carry through to watching people do DIY, and me actually doing DIY, but if so, d hasn't been paying attention to the guy she's married to. My dad gave me a kickass toolkit when we got married. d took it out of my hands like a bomb disposal expert removing a ticking suitcase from a plane, and I've hardly ever seen it since).
Or I could just sit here for a while, until I get the energy to go to sleep. Let's see what happens, shall we?
Oh and talking about things I promised to do before now, I got everything I need to take daily blood samples yesterday, so should be able to add the delightful little details about how much sugar's in my blood from tomorrow.
You're thrilled, aren't you? I can tell...
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