Sliding Scales

Nope, that didn't work either.

So, this is post 101, and since last week I was essentially one big fart away from two important milestones - having lost a stone and a half at 19 st and one half pound, and breaking the 19 stone barrier altogether - I figured this week would be celebratory, and we could have a street party, a bank holiday, and hell, maybe even a four-day weekend...
What, the Queen's so special all of a sudden, she gets to call them, and I can't?! Always said we should be a bloody Republic...

Anyhow, so it was all gonna be singing and dancing and yadda yadda yadda, but as you know, I am currently Composto, the Vegetable-Boy, and nothing, but nothing, seems to help. So after an unsuccessful attempt to...shall we day redistribute...the compost this morning, and with time ticking on, I got on the scales. And it is with an apparently heavy heart that I have to report this morning's result:
19 stone 2.5 pounds - up a pound and a quarter on last week.

This is, incidentally, the first time I've genuinely had to report a weight gain - See? Wretched evil bastard vegetables, they intend us no good at all. As if my own situation wasn't proof enough, it now appears that the e-coli outbreak is probably all down to German beansprouts! See! Subversive beansprouts want to bring us down! Burn the beansprouts! Burn all the beansprouts!! Then oddly enough, on the way into work, I was watching some old Doctor Who on my iPod. The Waters of Mars, one of David Tennant's final stories. And in that story, the Big Bad is a bloke who turns into an evil, acquisitive, water-vomitting viral nightmare...after eating the first carrot ever grown on Mars! See??! It's the Vegetables, man, they can't be trusted....

Ahem...it's possible I'm taking this rather too seriously.

Mind you, it's fascinating what happens to the brain in circumstances like this. I hung around after my weigh-in this morning, just waiting for the spirit of digestive fluidity to move me. Nada. Not a freakin' Quorn sausage. And so...

Have you ever seen Sliding Doors? That movie where, for no terribly good reason, Gwyneth Paltrow suddenly starts living two lives in different what-if scenarios? Well, my day has become like that. In the one, the great screaming drama-queen that is the Disappearing Me hid out till d went off to work and stuffed the scales in his rucksack, and is just waiting for the right moment for the day's 'proper' weigh-in. In that dimension he walked as far as the bus, thought "Oh well, sod it, clearly it's not worth bothering," and got on. In that dimension, if nothing's happened by lunchtime, he might just grab a Snickers bar and be done with it. Although interestingly of course, if something does happen, he actually will get an ego-boosting result, and won't have to live with the first official weight-gain in

Meanwhile in this dimension, the less-rampantly histrionic me is thinking "Well, yeah, it sucks, but it's a pound and a quarter, and we know that at least some of that is compost, so while the result is official, let's get a grip here. This me didn't get the bus, and this me would dearly love to get a Snickers bar right now, but isn't going to. Because this dimension's me is keeping track of the fact that really, he doesn't know he's born, compared to half the people in his life right now, how have real dramas!

Each dimension has its own soundtrack too - the drama-queen dimension is tuned to Leonard Cohen this morning, all self-important self-pity and ponderous rhythm, while the realistic dimension is soundtracked by Denis Leary, and is upbeat and moving on.

So a sucky result for Composto today, but on we absolutely have to and absolutely will be going...
Oh and the blood was 5.5 this morning. Clearly it's turning into mulch...