Right now, while being convinced of new energy and new things and new losses in 2013, I feel like I'm trapped in the kind of Inbetweeny Zone, between Christmas and New Year. Yes, I've stopped eating madness by the spoonful, as I was eating over Christmas, but no, I haven't yet begun a glorious regime of new effort.
A couple of nights ago I woke at 4.43, and determined: "Right - I'm gonna strap my boots on and go walking."
No sooner had that thought crossed my synapses that - quelle surprise - the heavens opened and the country got yet another downpour. Seriously, can I get a petition in to Thor at this point? Knock it the Hell off with the rain, please? Nobody ever dreamed of a wet Christmas, just like the ones they used to know. And similarly, no-one ever wished another human being a Soggy New Year.
So, while I listened to the rain wash away my desire to slip out of bed, slip on some boots and walk for miles, I did the thing you'd expect of any anally retentive fuckwit. I did the maths.
Two pounds per week - the recommended safe limit to lose. That means to lose 14 pound (one stone) should take seven weeks. If we say I start this re-energising at 18 stone (which, just between us, there's solid reason to expect I will), I'm looking initially to lose six stone - or 84 pounds. That would mean I was down to 12 stone, or 168 pounds. While technically that will mean I have a little way to go, I'll be very nearly happy with the weight I am at that point. So, do the math with me: 84 pounds divided by 2 pounds per week - 42 weeks. There being 52 weeks in the year, ten extra weeks at 2 pound per week will take me down to 11 stone 4 pounds - which is pretty much ideal. So: this whole experiment started off as one year to save my life and change it.
Once more, with feeling?
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