Woke up today hoping for a better day. I put on my new compression stockings hoping they would control my big, wobbly legs and stop them being so achy; my old ones have been washed so often they’re no longer are as compression-y as I’d like them to be. I’m not expecting miracles though, I was a bit disappointed with the consultation last week. It was a new woman (shame the old one had to move on, she was fabulous) and I wasn’t too impressed by her; she didn’t measure my legs she just had a brief look, said OK, ordered me four new pairs and discharged me from the service. NHS cut-backs; got to love those Tories!! In addition, I had my hot lemon drink so by the time I left for work I was feeling quite positive.
Surprise, surprise…it was short-lived. There was no bread in the house so I could not take my toast as usual. And if there was no toast, there was no point taking a coconut milk latte. Therefore, I had no option but to buy breakfast on the way to work. Goddammit!! I ended up having a bacon roll and a normal latte from EAT; such a hardship. It was very tasty but I knew the usual tears and bitter recriminations would follow, not immediately, but as some point later in the day. Why is it, that as soon as I’ve eaten something unplanned or without thinking, I somehow feel the whole day is a write-off and give myself a holiday from the stupid eating rules I enforce on myself. Unfortunately, this scenario crops up most days, so I never really follow the eating rules I set for myself. Unless of course you count the days when this scenario rears its ugly head very late on, then I give myself partial credit; I kid myself I’ve been successful up until that point. Anyway because things went tits-up early on, lunch was easy. I no longer had to think about having something healthy, nutritious…I ended up having the left-over brioche buns from our burger dinner the other night laden with butter and cheese. Not too bad, until you find out I followed this with another milky coffee and half a dozen chocolate biscuits (just wee ones). See what I mean, a leave of absence from reality!!
The whole food/eating thing has become toxic. I no longer trust myself. I don’t know when or if I’m hungry or what I’m hungry for. Unlike a lot of people, I don’t overeat, as such (I strongly believe this) but I do eat all the wrong things, or so I’m led to believe. The thing is I no longer know who to trust or believe. Everyone seems to have an idea, or a plan, but when you look closely at it they’re only doing it to better their own bank accounts. My plan would be to be put into a medical coma for six months and placed on a toning table. Can you imagine waking from the best sleep of your life to find the body you hated had been replaced with a leaner one. I can only see two drawbacks of this; the first, if you lose too much weight you may be left with too much skin and not enough muscle to fill it, thereby looking like a bag of spanners. The other problem is, it may take time to be accepted by all your friends and family; they’re going to hate you for looking so fabulous. Now all I need is to figure out where I could get the funding for this idea?
Just finished dinner and ready to settle down for the evening. About to have my third cup of coffee of the day and another cheeky wee biscuit… might as well the day is already ruined.