The stroppy kid part of me kicks and screams and throws a tantrum. The grown-up bit reassures the brat that it's early days and things will happen and my weight will come off as long as I keep to the script. Rinse and repeat.
Lovely hubby's treatment is still going well (although he is a bit less comfortable as the days go by) and the GP is happy, so it's 'keep taking the tablets', as it were, for the foreseeable future.
I have bitten the bullet on the job front and put in an application for a part-time job (crossing fingers but not all that confident), and I'm looking around to see what else is out there. Still have no concrete idea what I'd like to do but there has to be something.
That damnable Black Dog is slinking around in the background, not threatening yet, just making his presence apparent, so I've put a link to Bobby McFerrin's 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' video on my desktop to help circumvent the beggar. If Robin Williams doesn't lift the mood I don't know what will.
Just a little reminder to the fat lass to make haste slowly. You may feel like the tortoise rather than the hare, but that is not a problem. What matters is that you keep on making sensible decisions and don't let worries and life's hitches derail you.
Onwards, ever...
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