Disaster!

... but maybe a few small signs of recovery?

Oh well, I can't put it off any longer... it's high time that my confession comes out. To be honest, with what I'm about to put down in black and white, I'm cringing.

I have recently let my inner 'fat lass' get completely out of control and, looking back, seem to have been pretty determined to de-rail myself. OK, I was ill for a few days, I'm still stressed at work, still feeling tired as I'm not sleeping too well and, for no apparent reason, am rather down - but that does not excuse this type of 'bad old days' behaviour. I'll say it again - it is no excuse! This is exactly what led to me becoming the fat lass in the first place.

The confession follows a week and a half of feeling grotty on all fronts, doing no exercise and stuffing myself with all the wrong things... and apparently not giving a damn. The result? My trousers are no longer looking to be taken in at the waist, my weight shot right back up to a whopping 72kg and I'm not pleased. Also, because I ate such a lot meat and passed on the veggies, my digestive system has played up over the last couple of days. Not good.

Worse still, although Monday brought me the short, sharp, shock when I got on the scales, I don't think even that really stopped the rot. Sure, I got back on the rower, but only did 250 strokes - come on, you need to make the effort, fat lass!

The rest of Monday wasn't fantastic. I did restrain myself to eating relatively healthily with a salad and fruit. Apart, that is, from the breadsticks which disappeared out of the box without my really being aware of it. Things didn't improve either. I went out for dinner with a friend Monday night and even though I didn't even like my meal, I ate it... all of it! Even more shocking is that I hit the whisky and munched on poppadums and full-fat soft goat cheese when I got home, because my meal had been rubbish. Dear heavens, what were you thinking?

Tuesday was slightly better, no actually a lot better, and by this morning I feel like I'm getting back on a safe track again. The scales tell me that the weight has dropped back down to 71kg. Still too high but at least heading in the right direction.

But, I'm really, really, very annoyed with myself indeed. In fact, I'm so damned angry I could cry. I just have not been taking care of myself in any way at all and I should have learned by now that not caring is a short cut to gaining flab and feeling like a dismal failure.

I know that everyone hits obstacles at times, and I know that I shouldn't be too hard on myself for the fact that I let myself fall off the wagon. What worries me is that I haven't quite figured out why it happened this time, and I fear that similar circumstances could de-rail me again.

Oh well, a day at a time.