I really should be asleep by now. I’m driving to Kilkenny for work in the morning and I’ll have to be up at six. Considering I spent most of today yawning, I’m surprised I can’t sleep.
On Tuesday night, I posted a sad post, where I wept and wailed and gnashed my teeth. Things have gone an awful lot better since.
Wednesday was perfect. I had my diety breakfast. My diety lunch. My diety dinner. I wasn’t hungry. I went to bed with a genuine excitement on Wednesday night. I was visualising my stupendousness. I saw a gazelle-like Connor, who’d draw attention from all around for his lithe beauty.
Thursday started just as well. Diety breakfast. Diety lunch. Then I weighed myself. I’d lost 2 pounds in 2 days. Yay!
Then I went for a moonlight run along the beach. I have a cold, and my lungs hated me, but I felt quietly ecstatic.
Driving home from my run, I stopped for dinner. I had a good diety dinner. But I had forgotten to get a drink with it. I stopped again to get a bottle of water. This is where it all goes wrong.
I found myself buying two packets of chocolate biscuits and a litre of skimmed milk. That sentence kind of sums up my life.
I sat in the car and ate them all. Quickly.
While I ate, I was checking Twitter on my phone. I laughed at a funny tweet and a mixture of skimmed milk and chocolate biscuits sprayed all over my chest. I had been running in a plain white T-shirt.
It now looked like I was wearing some kind of bad dieter’s badge. Here I was, in my running gear, oozing chocolate from my breast.
I horsed down the rest of the biscuits. Washed them down with the rest of the milk.
That’s probably those two pounds gained back again after that little binge.
I went home dejected. I ran past the kitchen to my bedroom and locked the door, hoping none of the boys saw me. God only knows why I think an eighteen-year-old Social Work student from Donegal would give a damn if he knew that the elderly student from the end of the hall had broken his diet. But I do care. I didn’t go to bed in the best mood.
This morning, I woke up feeling overfull. I still have a cold. A large part of me presumed it would be a bad day.
And then a miracle happened.
I had a diety breakfast. I had a diety lunch. I had a slightly-too-large-but-still-diety dinner. (I also had 2 hot toddies but that’s totally allowed.)
It wasn’t a perfect day. But my reaction to screwing up yesterday wasn’t to screw up today. That’s not normal for me.
I’m still very much the worst dieter in all the world. But I fell off the wagon and got straight back on it.
A miracle. Some progress. I’m happy. I’ll see you for the weigh-in on Sunday.