The Curve

Funny the things you notice.
I've been doing a lot of work in the office today, excavating the right spaces and places to make it work, and help, eventually, to get the bedroom box-free -yes, I still haven't got the bedroom box-free after nine months here. It's a big sliding puzzle, OK? Nehh...

Anyway, while doing it, I spotted my stomach in a small shaving mirror. When I saw it, I had to go look in the big bedroom mirror. That didn't help, because I saw it again.

I've got a curve back.

I mean...when I was down to 15 stone, beneath the prow of the man-breasts, there was - at least when I sucked in - a kind of concavity. Over the last few months of putting back on, I've been OK with some of it, because there's been a sort of straightness beneath the plateau. But today...well in fact undoubtedly before today, but certainly today in every mirror I pass, there's a curve. An outward, spherical curve. I'm regaining my Humptiness. This cannot be allowed to go on.

Oh, and a note for Tuesday-watchers. There will be no weigh-in this coming Tuesday, because for the first time in quite some time, I'll be away form the Nazi Scales this Tuesday, doing an overnight in London.

All in all, it's probably just as well, seeing the curve...