I should probably update some blood records. 7.8, 7.1, 8.1 for the last three days. 8.1 is understandable given that we ate out last night and I had a glass of cider.
Still, understandable is not the same as "a good thing", of course. Not even close.
Seems to me that at the moment I'm at the stage again where all it would take for me to lose a satisfying "whumpf" of weight would be to philosophically commit to the idea of losing weightloss - smaller portions, regular exercise, metabolism boosts, all the stuff that...y'know...works. I feel like at the moment, what I'm actually doing is trying to construct a daily safety net, and then throwing myself onto it. As though I'm trying to beat the system or something, or force biology to believe that things that don't work actually do.
Biology of course is neither a fool nor a pussy, and won't be messed about with. It doesn't care about psychology, it doesn't care about blisters or heart shenanigans or any damn thing whatsoever. It's a ruthless, honest bastard with a calculator and an actuarial table. You either play its game to win, and lose by trying, or you play its game to lose, and lose by not trying, probably a damn sight quicker.
Time to stop trying to make do or get by. Actually trying of course is bloody exhausting. Sigh...but it's got to be done.
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