Hmmm … I’m not exactly keeping to my daily blogging, am I? I’m starting to realise why the diary I kept through my teens and early twenties petered out …
Well I think the fact that I’m not relying on this as much to keep me to the regime is an indication that it’s now become second nature. I can’t believe I’ve almost completed four weeks. That means that the end goal (whenever that may turn out to be) isn’t as unachievable after all.
This was a week of ups. My Dad came over, who I’d not seen for a couple of weeks, and the first thing he said when he came through the door was ‘you’re looking great, Joey!’. That was fantastic … I’m sure he would’ve said something if I’d not lost an ounce, but that doesn’t diminish the sentiment. Given my new-found pride in my appearance (I no longer stumble out of the door, unmade up and bleary) it’s wonderful when people make positive comments. It’s especially nice given that people around me have grown accustomed over time to not commenting on my physical appearance, and now they feel they can. I never thought I’d hear myself say that I like that.
I also had an important business meeting this week, meeting someone I don’t know, and the fact that my favourite suit jacket now fits as it once did (I’ve had it for a few years!) made me feel that their first mental reaction to meeting me wouldn’t be ‘god, she’s enormous’. (I’m not saying that’s what people actually do think on meeting me, but in my head they do). I felt more svelte and smart than I have for a very long time.
I picked up some sort of bug towards the end of the week, so the fact that I was existing on soup and water did me a lot of favours, frankly! I’m sure I recovered more quickly than I normally would … or maybe that’s the ketosis euphoria lying to me! It also meant that the long-suffering Boy was able to go to the pub with impunity while I curled up on the sofa. And, in keeping with my cleaning/purging fetish, I also managed to clear out my dining room which has been little more than a junk store over the past few months. All good, all good.
Today I cooked my second consecutive Sunday roast for some friends. Again, I choose lamb because I hate it and even my willpower would struggle when confronted by a nice slice of rare beef … with horseradish … aaah! … and again it didn’t bother me at all while they tucked in. The roast potatoes went from the roasting tin to the bowl to their plates to their stomachs and I didn’t blink. That’s an achievement and a half, I can tell you. They’re now snoozing off the red wine (and port … bloody hell I did almost crack at the port and stilton stage, I must confess) and I’ve managed to actually find time to write this and finish off some work that was outstanding for tomorrow. Without sounding like an alcoholic, I’ve been delighted that four weeks off the booze and on the water is making me alarmingly clear-headed and alert. That, coupled with the new spring in my step and renewed vigour for life in general, means that I’m simply getting more stuff done. That’s very heartening.
I had to buy a new pair of jeans over the weekend too, as my old faithful ones gave up the ghost. I was hoping that they’d hold out a little longer so I could jump for joy having dropped a few sizes, but the fact that my new ones are a size smaller and still a little roomier than they should be is brilliant. I’m attacking the wardrobe next weekend. It’s official!
Tomorrow is D-day again. I’ve had my required monthly blood pressure check (all perfect) and tomorrow I get weighed and measured too. If my hips haven’t dropped a centimetre or two I’ll be mighty surprised. I’m also really looking forward to meeting up with the rest of the group. I thought I’d find the meetings a chore, but it’s genuinely nice to see how everyone’s getting on, and see how great they look from week to week. Here’s hoping that the scales go in my favour …