..Yesterday, for the first time in months I got on the scales.. reckoning on seeing a certain figure in my head, thinking I must have lost a pound or two.... I was horrified to see a number 11 at the begining of the weight! Hell, how much did I put on over the last few months.. you mean the trousers were not just tight from the latest wash / shrink cycle my Hotpoint seems set on??!
Okay, so I've been good.. as in 'better than I would normally have been' (no mid-morning saffron buns, no blatent eating of biscuits through the day....not enough chocolate or tasty stuff to register on a calorie counter.. to be exact: ONE tiny chocolate Rudolph the Reindeer and a fruit bagel for supper the other evening) but it was a shock to see the number 11 on the scales, not since Kate was born, though often I have sideled up to the 12lb mark and I should know that is two pounds off the next stone.
Anyways, my resolve is good, we thought about swimming on Monday evening but neither Col and I could come up with a pleasurable aspect of going....the cold car drive there, fumbling for parking money, changing amongst the plasters, swimming amongst the plaster wearers, dressing a wet body in the chill of an evening draught... and then waking the next morning with bird's nest hair (me, not Col)....oh, yeah, feel good about the swimming per se, but not about the rest and the chocolate bar you eat to stave off hunger until you go home and cook tea.
So, not swimmers, least of all not pool swimmers in winter..(esp with a warm holiday looming :-) ) ...cross trainer beckons..