Half a pound, half a pound,
Half a pound downward,
Into the Valley of Taking the Frigging Piss trudged the encumbered...
Yes - today's weigh-in figures show me at 19st 3.25 - that's a whole half-pound lighter than last week.
To be fair, this week I've missed a good few days of walking, due to deadline commitments, and last night we did have a pretty rich pasta dinner, to there's that, but all the same, it feels like a proper crawl at the minute.
But that being said, it's not as though my Disappearing is currently making too painful an impact on my life - the walking's pleasant, and I have yet to dedicate enough time or layers of foot-skin to it for it to be uber-effective; the bike is neeearly uncovered but there are two enormo, fuck-off paintings in the way, for which it's fair to say I don't have actual wall-space for, or any practical clue what to do with. I'm still, as foreshadowed, eating pasta - as well as other unwise things like occasional cashew nuts. I'm still drinking chilled Starbucks drinks from Tesco. And while I'm on my meds, I've been rationing them somewhat, due to a situation of being between doctors at the moment, which is hopefully solved now. So it's probably dead right that I should only be losing quarter-pounds. The time will come when I knuckle the hell down and things start moving properly - probably when I fiugure out what to do with those paintings, and add a daily chunk of biking into my regiment. but that's not today.
And as a pal pointed out to me this morning with a properly Girl Scout philosophy, 'still moving in the right direction.' I did point out that if you took pictures of the rate at which I'm 'moving in the right direction,' as of yet, they'd fail to show any movement whatsoever, but hey ho.
Right - on we go. Some bugger pass me my walking boots...
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