I’ve been a bit quiet this week because I fell off the wagon
on Tuesday. I did not manage my fast at all. I had a bad day, I was doing fine
until I got to my Greek lesson and realised I had forgotten my photograph. I
had to come home, turn the house upside down because I couldn’t find my spares,
and then walk back up. I got back there just as the lesson was ending.
By the time I got home I was shaking and dizzy. If I had
been more on the ball I would have realised that a cup of tea would have been ample
and I would have slept very well that night. Unfortunately in order to have tea
I need to go to the shop for milk. This was my downfall, food was looking at me
from every direction, even the shelf above the milk in the fridge held fat
homemade sandwiches on triara (local village speciality) bread. I was officially
done for.
Anyone who knows me well will tell you that I LOVE bread,
especially freshly baked speciality bread, so I have been purposefully avoiding
the bakery. I hadn’t eaten a sandwich in two months. I failed miserably when I
finally got back in the house, there were three large bread cakes (I’m from
Yorkshire, deal with it) in the fridge and some thinly sliced salami. I didn’t
even eat the whole bread cake, I sliced off the top and the bottom, throwing
the middle in the bin. That sandwich tasted so good, but I nearly doubled my calorie
intake by that addition of bread. Bread is my enemy in the weight-loss war.
I haven’t been able to slide another fast into this week so
I’m feeling a little bit sorry for myself. The aim today is to do a fluid fast
to try and make sure I manage some sort of loss tomorrow but I’m not holding my
breath.
I have a particular aim in mind and that is to lose another
12.7kg (28lbs or 2st) before my birthday in July. That is a MAJOR landmark as
it will be the lightest I will have been since I was 21.
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