The scales did not tell a good story. I was heavy again. I felt heavy. I tried to convince myself that it was just travelling through and it would soon be processed but I wasn’t sold on the idea. I’d decided yesterday that breakfast would not happen today but even if I hadn’t I wouldn’t now I’d stood on the weighing machine.
The journey to work was particularly awful today. I was bad to junction 9 and then it got worse. It took me over an hour to get to the next junction. There was nothing I could do except turn up the radio and accept the situation. I eventually arrived an hour late for work. I wandered in sat down and started. No one commented, I have them well trained.
I failed to get to the pool today, mainly because I arrived late and needed to catch up. This failure lead me on a path directly to an extra-large white chocolate chip cookie and a handful of peanuts. So much for this being a minimum food maximum protein day. A least not eating anything tonight will be relatively easy, there is nothing in the house to eat. I should have gone to the pool
My resolve buckled the moment I stepped through the door. I felt hungry. I tried to resist but the combination of readily available food and the deep-rooted feeling of hunger combined to twist my thoughts towards eating. It started with a thin salami sausage and then graduated onto an avocado. I then realised I’d blow it and catastrophic thinking kicked in. Three more thin salami sausages quickly followed, then two tins of mackerel in spicy tomato sauce. That was still not enough. I attached the cheese with a devil may care attitude and consumed the red Leicester that was lying in the fridge. I felt rather ill after that lot. I was also very annoyed at myself for losing my grip on the situation.
I went to bed later than usual as I was afraid of being ill. I could have taken a bucket with me but the thought didn’t occur to me.