The blog is one year old today! If it was a dog it would be old enough to make its First Holy Communion.
In that time, I have had successes and failures. Maybe more failures than successes, but I’m still standing, or rather sitting, in front of the TV, relishing “Great British Hairdresser”. It’s the kind of reality show that makes you roar at the telly in frustration. And there’s nothing I like more than spluttering in outrage at silly reality show judges.
Back to the blog’s birthday. I’m celebrating it by clambering back onto the wagon. I ended my last post with a plea to the worldwide web not to let me fail. You’ve obviously been saying your prayers because I ain’t gonna fail. (Why is there an apostrophe in “ain’t”? It’s not as if it’s short for “ai not”)
I’ve got a plan. “Oh, Connor!” I hear you cry, “not another plan”. Well, it’s not a new plan; just the old one rebooted.
I started by washing my system out. Yesterday was mainly a day of water, lemon juice and prunes. The prunes, as ever, did their job. It’s like shoving a steam-train through my digestive tract. The journey might not be scenic, but you’re glad when you get there.
Then I printed out my goal weight for the end of June and hung it up in my room, with a progress chart underneath. I feel very self-help-booky.
And I started cooking beans again. Yay for beans, birthdays and wagons! Next weigh-in on Good Friday.