03 November 2015

Tricks, treats and consequences

With Halloween, and All Soul's Day, just behind us I thought it was about time to make my confessions. The fat lass, it seems, has lost the plot.

Let's talk about the tricks first as these led directly to the rest. My mind (I rather hesitate to say brain here - that appears to have taken leave of absence!) has been playing these on me just recently. Maybe it's been inadvertent, but maybe (more likely) with a dose of collusion on my part - the jury remains out at the moment.

You see, I've been sitting on my backside completing a plethora of online job applications of late. Not my favourite task, ever... particularly when they all seem to come to nought. I have got SO very fed up answering the same damn questions, with each and every organisation's application worded just differently enough to make me have to 'rewrite' the script every damn time. I'm also mightily tired of trying to portray myself in an engaging, positive and unmissable light, and in no way at all overqualified for this not fantastically paid but 'fascinating sounding' job. Er, me? No siree, not even slightly. C'mon someone, give me a shot and I'll show you I can do the damn job! Whinge, whinge...

Whether this has been the only trigger, I don't know. Inactivity certainly plays a part too, and it could still be some of the leftover stresses from the move as well, or even some of those old family issues raising their ugly heads again. Whatever the real cause, my internal dialogue (or the devil on my shoulder) has been pretty active of late too, and whispering slippery, subtle, dangerous words like 'working hard' and 'deserve' and 'make you feel better'.

On the back of this 'permission', my mischievous mind has also suggested (and, of course I've readily accepted) a variety of treats. Nothing 'bad' you understand, but...

Oh sure, they've all been low-carb so I haven't felt too sinful, but as we all know in our saner moments, even low-carb excess has a knock-on effect. Shame I seem to have mislaid 'sane'. A dollop of cream in my coffee, a handful of nuts here and there, a small bag of pork scratchings, cheese and olives at lunchtime (when a good breakfast suffices and we don't usually eat any lunch!). The odd snifter of scotch, or glass of red.

Get my drift? Yep, strangely enough that's also what happened to the scales! We'd managed to 'forget' to weigh ourselves for a couple of weeks, what with the birthdays and other excuses, but got back on the scale at the weekend. Oh dear - our very own Halloween nightmare! The damage for me? Two extra kilos. TWO of the blighters! There they are, cheerfully taking me over my magic eight and a half stone mark for the first time in I don't know how long.

Something went bump in the night alright. That'd be my sense of well-being and with it my self respect. Well, I can't say it should have come as a complete shock as the waistband of my jeans appeared to have 'shrunk' even though I hadn't even put them through the laundry! Darling lovely hubby fared less disastrously, but even he'd gained a kilo.

Right, we know 'what' to do, it's just a simple(!) matter of knuckling down and doing it. In the meantime, all I can do is repeat Flanders and Swann's 'Pee Po Belly Bum Drawers!' and get back to the drawing board. Onwards, and all that...

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