Baaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahaha!
Oh, that's absurd. Glorious, but absurd.
Haven't had a chance to walk this week - deadlines, deadlines, deadlines, rawhiiiiiiide!
In addition to which, dinner last night was spaghetti bolognaise in glorious profusion. I'd forgotten it was Monday night, but it was actually so scrumptious I didn't care that much.
This morning's weigh-in? 17st 6.25 - down my hoped-for two pounds. Through the trampoline barrier of the half-stone point - 17st 7. Who knew the beard weighed that much?!
Here's the weird thing. In the abstract, this is a result that makes me all gimlet-eyed 80s-movie determined. Cue the Rocky montage, and all that. In the short term, it let me march to my favourite local cafe for the best bacon and egg sandwich I've had in fifteen years (It's a beard thing). This probably says more about the ineffective nature of abstract motivations, but I went, I ate, I felt my sense of personal wellbeing swell. Now on we go. The truth is that breakfast bacon butty or no breakfast bacon butty, I feel encouraged by this morning's result to do better and intend, at this point, to push on down.
Naturally of course, this being the way of things, next week I'll be massively heavier, full of excuses and roaring around the place, kicking imaginary cats and declaring that nothing's worth doing cos we're all dooooomed.
So, y'know, there's that to look forward to. Meanwhile, woohoo! *Struggles into cheerleading outfit, shakes pom-poms in a loathesome display of self-congratulation.*
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