The Mini-Wave Necessity

Yep - d tells me this, often.

If you've never seen a really fat man doing a nauseatingly self-congratulatory happy dance, and have determined that your life will in fact be complete without ever witnessing such a phenomenon, you might want to look away now.

Today's weigh-in - 18st 3lbs.
That's Stone 1 done and dusted and out of the way, ladies and gentlemen. I say that like it has any independent meaning, when of course it doesn't - it's merely 14 lbs. But given that I live in Ye Olde Britaine, rather than a sensible modern country, those of us over a certain age still use stones as a unit of measurement, which means for me, 14 lbs is one stone, which is enough of a reason for at least a miniature happy dance. Awoohoo.

The fun thing is of course, in just four pounds' time (and yes, I'm aware that's a messed up idea), I get to celebrate again, and properly that time, because then, my Nazi Scales will show a 17, rather than an 18.

I've said this before, so excuse the brief re-hash, but the first time I Disappeared, I didn't feel like I was properly getting somewhere till I saw a 17 in the Stones marker. Now granted, that time round, it had taken me 3.5 stones - 46 pounds - to see that first 17, whereas this time round it will have taken me a mere 18, but still, it feels like a Disappearing Rubicon because it's the point at which off the peg clothes start to really be available to me, from memory.

Today was among the strangest days in recent memory. Woke up in the middle of the night and stared at the ceiling for about three hours, thinking. That meant I slept a little late, and was actually sitting in the bathroom when my day-job boss Skyped me for the weekly team meeting. Thankfully, when Skype launched, it launched voice-only. "That's OK," said the boss, "we don't need to see you."
I couldn't agree more, I thought.

Then there was the mini-dancing at the weigh-in figures, and my usual Tuesday journey to my Cardiff Starbucks. En route, I caught up with my pal Wendy, which involved the weirdest proposal involving a clipboard I think I've heard in a long, long time.

Starbucks was itss usual groovy self - great news from my pal Naz, plus, to be fair, one of the other oddest conversations I've had in a while, this one about soy (especially in this instance, soy porridge), and how it's apparently not a good thing for men. She blushed then, saying it was inappropriate for her to have raised the subject. It wasn't - it was useful health advice: to be fair, I like soy generally only as a sauce, so I'm fairly safe from the effects of the demon bean.

Oh, forgot my heart meds when I left home this morning, so had a minor fibrilation within minutes of arriving in Starbucks. Did my usual thing and it sodded off. Just after it had sodded off and Naz had told me about the evilness of soy, I turned around to find my mother sitting at my table.

"Congratulations on the stone, love," she said. "I brought you something to celebrate."
Chocolate? I wondered. Peanut Butter Cornettos? Twenty grand in used bills?

Apples. Four fresh Waitrose apples.
To be fair, they're lovely apples, and I realised as a result of this drive-by fruiting that she was right - this is what celebration probably is while I'm Disappearing. So yippee skippy, go wild and crazy for apples!

Got the train home, and it got jusssst over halfway before telling us all that there was a problem up the line, so we'd all have to sod off out of it and go and wait in the rain for the replacement bus service.

"How long will that be?" I asked.
"Dunno, mate. Prob'ly at least half an hour," said the ticket-monkey.
A...ha.
I called Ma.
"No problem," she said, a little tight-lipped. "I'll be down in quarter of an hour."
The replacement bus came. The replacement bus went. As it turned out, there was a big traffic accident on the road between her and me, so she was a bit delayed getting down to me.
"Take these," she said when she arrived. She had three pill dispensers in her hand. "Fill 'em for me. Then put one in your bloody briefcase, ya numpty."

I got home eventually at exactly the time I would have got home if I'd stayed in the warm, coffee-scented loveliness of my Starbucks for another hour and got on the next, unimpeded train. Sigh.

Still - woohoo - One stone down. And on we go - Next goal, two weeks from now, see a 17.