Well despite my best intentions, I’m skating a very fine line. In principle, I’m sticking to the management food rules but, in practice, I’m bending them almost until they snap. What’s worrying is these naughty thoughts keep slipping into my head that tell me ‘oh, you can make up for it tomorrow’. That, as we all know, is the mantra of every failed dieter on the planet. I need to have a stern word with myself!
How naughty have I been? Well, in the grand scheme of things, not very. I think my brain is still slightly in abstinence mode … when you’ve been so strict with yourself for so long, it’s hard not to come down on yourself really hard when you do something that to other people seems very well-behaved! I managed to be very restrained on Friday night (one cocktail and two glasses of wine) and was up with the lark on Saturday for my swim. Annoyingly, though, I couldn’t get into the rhythm of it and only did twenty minutes instead of my usual rigorous half an hour. Normally I just plough up and down the pool and let my mind wander (one of the reasons I love swimming so much) but I was distracted and not really with it. I intend to make up for that when I go back to the pool tonight or tomorrow.
Saturday was OK … I had a weirdly emotional trip down memory lane at my old school. Absolutely nobody recognised me. I was there with my two best friends from my year, and one of them hasn’t changed a scrap since she was a teeny thing, so she was instantly recognisable. I only got remembered by association. It was only when the third person said ‘when did you stop having black hair?’ that I realised that in their minds I’m permanently stuck as a podgy teenage goth with, shall we say, ‘statement hair’ and a fairly unique take on fashion. It’s faintly ridiculous to think that I would still look like that eighteen years later, isn’t it?! Or maybe not, I don’t know! What did strike me was the feeling of unease and discomfort that I had while walking around the school. It made me realise how much more comfortable with myself I am now than I was then. Of course all teenagers are neurotic, but I was alarmed how easily all those neuroses came back to bite me. Anyone who says ‘I’d love to be sixteen again’ is a maniac. Give me thirty-five any day of the week! In fact, give me slim and thirty-five. And, as I wandered home through Croydon for the first time in almost two decades, I came to the conclusion that the past should be left where it belongs … in the past! Being on this diet has really reinforced my view that it’s more important to look forwards than backwards.
Er … I guess I should confess at this point that there was an ice cream van at the fair and I had one. I am a very bad person indeed 😦
Sunday was brilliant. For the first time in weeks we chilled out in the house, watched tennis and ate salad and strawberries. It felt fun and virtuous all at the same time. I then spoiled it all by meeting friends for dinner in the pub and eating mussels. I’m finding the one meal a day rule really hard … this will be my undoing if I’m not careful. I’m hoping that all the nervous excitement of watching Nadal’s epic match might cancel out some of the calories … Wishful thinking? Of course it is. So I’m facing this week with renewed resolve to behave myself. I can’t begin to contemplate the horror of piling weight back on having come this far. That would be even more stupid than my teenage hairdressing experiments 🙂