Weird day. Got up at 6.30, feeling grumpy as hell. Strapped on my boots and went out walking. Walked to the bottom of Twyn Hill - my normal walking route - and looked up. The idea of sliding and crunching my way up that thing repulsed me. I turned around, and went towards the Taff Trail, clambering up a snow-covered pack-ice path, then looked down the Trail. I'm sure this is my own wuss-ass grumpyism, but it looked impossibly impassable. O I walked through the back of the town, to face myself with the enormo-hill of Heolgerrig.
"Bugger that for a game of soldiers," I decided, and turned around and came home again.
So that was the feeling that dominated my morning - closed off, closed in, snowed under and denied. Meh.
Thing is, it inspired me to gluttony. Classic fat fuck excuse for reasoning - "I'm not happy therefore I want chips and chocolate". I got my coat on, strapped on my boots again and went out with the express purpose of getting both of these things.
I got outside into the light drizzle of snow - yep, that's still falling; can't tell you how overjoyed I am - before it hit me. So far today, my eating hadn't been bad. If I were to add chips and chocolate to the mix though, any rational calculation of intake goes completely out of the window. And what you end up with is a situation where progress you've made is undone, and you have to lose weight you've already lost...again.
"But I wannnnnnnnnit!" yelled my inner brat. "It tastes soooooooo good, and I feel soooooo bad and I need a treat or I'm gonna have a big messy tantrum right here!"
"Do you though?" said a saner, altogether more calm part of my brain. "Do you feel sooooo bad? Really? And do you really want the consequences of this short-term pleasure?"
And so I turned around, went back home, and came here to write this. Told my pal Wendy about this. Her response pretty much sums up the day:
"Get thee behind me, Chipfat!"
Yeah...quite...
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