I had a bit of a freak out this morning. I was sat at my desk, looked down at my belly (no other word for it) and realised that it still looks huge. Which made me depressed. Which made me think that This Will Never Work, it's too easy, nothing good is ever easy, it wasn't easy before so why is easy now, it'll stop working soon, and the ultimate question - when will it suddenly stop magically working?
Which is a lot of negativity to fit into the space of about 60 seconds.
But in all honesty it's how I do feel a lot of the time, even if I do manage to supress it and get on with the plan anyway. We're programmed to think that dieting (I hate that word) is so damn hard, so then I end up thinking that this can't possibly keep working. that any success so far must be a trick - lulling me into a false sense of security.
Mind you - I suppose in a way it does - I can't count the number of people who say they do so well, and then start sliding back into their old habits one tiny bit at a time. I'm scared that'll be me. Or that I'll run out of this mysterious supply of will-power that I currently seem to have, and do what I usually do with everything else in life - get bored and give up.
And if 1 and a half stone doesn't seem to have made much of dent in how I look, will the other 3 and a half really make it all that much better?
Ugggh - how do we go from feeling so high to feeling so low in such a short space of time - it's like you can actually feel the positivity and motivation draining out of you into a pathetic little puddle on the floor.
I think this might all be the effect of me feeling grumpily hungry all morning. Oh, I've been good enough - had beans on toast for breakfast (no butter or spread), and stuck to fruit all morning, but I hate feeling hungry, and of course I'm desperately trying to save points for the weekend. Think I'm also feeling increasingly deserted by my flatmate, who's literally inseparable from the guy she started going out with at Xmas. I'd thought by now, they might have settled into a more relaxed routine, but no, either she's at his, or he's wandering round our place like it's home, and the whole thing is really starting to set my teeth on edge. I mean, he's an alright guy, but frankly I don't need to see that much of him. And the rest of the time I don't see my flatmate for dust. or they're sat in the living room being ultra-couply, and slink off to her room to watch tv behind closed doors from about 8.
There maybe toys flying out the pram before the end of the day.
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