Think I'll Go And Eat Worms...

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

"Not faaaaaaaaaairrrrr!!!"

Toys out of pram. Tapioca on the ceiling. Dog in hiding. Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp waaaaaaaaaghhhh!

Seriously, I'm having such a toddler-tantrum today, you don't wanna be around me. Hell, I don't wanna be around me. 

Yesterday, I saw a pair of socks that, when shoved together, read out:
"Does my bum look big in these?"

I laughed at the time. But this morning, after a bad night's sleep and a morning Xenicaling, I slipped into a new pair of thick socks ready to face the grimness that is Monday. Then I thought again. If I'd had the joy of a Xenicaling, I figured I might as well get a Monday morning boost by stepping on the scales.

19 stone 2.

So there I was, bollock-naked except my socks, trying to make the mental case "Hmm...so....what? A pound per sock?"

Clearly, that's nonsense. The day went on in pretty much the same depressing tone - work would have been more enjoyable with a freely-bleeding head wound. Had sandwiches for breakfast, and a potato for lunch, so - not exactly saladicious. Followed that up with a self-pity pizza for dinner, pretty much spreading my wallowing misery to every corner of my life. Have felt, at several points today, like chucking it in and being normal again. Normality is an ache that pulls at me most days, but it's positively toddler-tantrum stupid to think like this, obviously - Yes, tomorrow, I'm going to have gone up, rather than down. I'm likely to have crossed back over the barrier of 19 stone. That's a complete and utter downer, but I've been wallowing and self-indulgent all day, and I think I should probably just go away and bike and sleep and face tomorrow's music, and then just get bloody on with it, because clearly this pathetic attitude is good for nobody.

Plenty of people love me,
Only a couple hate me,
But still I'm gonna eat worms...

Then I'm gonna get over myself, keep calm and carry the Hell on...

Honest.