Okey dokey, the weekend is officially over and I am already tired of myself and my self-defeating ways and the fact that I have to think about it all, at all. Discovered far too many blogs by poor, sad, fat or fat-ish people (women) who live their (our, my) sad, pathetic lives dictated to by numbers on scales. We are all so...sad. Bugger, bugger, bugger. What a lot of time and energy is spent on such lot of self-destructive, negative thinking and doing. F**k it all. I'm so annoyed that I am just one of millions.
Wee rant over and back on my treadmill, figuratively speaking, the weekend is indeed over. School holidays have a week to run, but that is just an excuse that I don't even believe. I need to find a little grit in my control centre and practice delayed gratification. Oh yes, it tastes nice and oh yes, I'm bloody hungry (am I?) but damn, oh damn, I really, really want to look great on that beach! Shallow? Ah hah, and that's not the water I'm talking about. Appearances aren't everything. Ugh, uuh, but just this once, on that beach they mean a lot more to me that that bag of chips or second iced, jam bun or lollies, lollies, lollies.
I need seriously to remember that. Tattoo it on my sad arsed brain. Beach, beach, beach. Beach wear! Not much, lots of skin.
So Monday tomorrow, lovely day to re-start a plan. Gym first thing, cardio all the way. Work and home to the darlings. Have appointment with personal trainer on Friday.
Sensible is all I'm aiming at, not starvation. Sigh.
That all said, I had a lovely walk around Portobello today with a friend, a stunning, sunny, winter's day, that's got to be good.
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