I’ve a couple of longer posts in progress, but in the name of updating this more regularly – and having outdone myself in the disgrace stakes at the weekend – here’s a little something from me to you:
I may have accidentally slept through today’s weigh-in.
I did honestly have every intention of going in, as it was the last one of our six-week Scottish Slimmers course. But I went to Edinburgh last night and drank a fair bit of wine and gin – very therapeutic, you understand, and therefore both totally justified and essential – and, well, there was just no chance of me getting out of bed before 12 today. If I’m dressed before 6, it will be considered a small miracle. Continue reading “Oops!”
It is also the weekend I just had. Continue reading “Happiness is a bag full of cheese.”
Today is my last day as a 27-year-old.
How the hell did that happen?
I still feel about 17: in terms of maturity, what I’ve achieved in life and my ability to hold my drink.
It’s weigh-in day.
I’m not particularly for OR against Valentine’s Day.
Until the age of 24, I’d never received a card from anyone other than my Dad or Grampa (bless them both). Continue reading “S.W.A.L.K.”
In my ‘Skinny Love’ post, I promised/threatened to keep you updated of my weekly progress on Scottish Slimmers.
I then promptly missed the next two weigh-ins.
The first week, I was at the High Court – reporting, not on trial or anything. The second week, I was in Belfast, eating and drinking approximately a gazillion times my daily calorie (or ‘check’) allowance. Continue reading “Progress, of a sort.”