Operation Mini-Skirt: -46.2 lbs.
Mental State: slightly unhinged.
I lost control last night.
I lost control.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't keep to a hundred grams of protein and 250 grams of vegetables, even with the ever-approaching reward of a lithe and beautiful body in a few months. I went home and... started eating. Just... oh God... carbs... and more carbs... and sugar... leftover Christmas cookies... hot chocolate... crackers... a whole can of baked beans... more crackers... more cookies... then some chocolate truffles... several chocolate truffles...
I just... lost it.
It was ugly.
And it was even uglier this morning when I stepped on the scale and realised that in a mere three or four-hour period, I had managed to gain one point six disgusting, lard-encrusted pounds. And was it worth it? No. No, not at all. Christmas was worth it. New Year's Eve was worth it. Last night was just ugly. I went to bed feeling bloated and uncomfortable. My stomach hurt and I couldn't sleep properly. I felt like a six-year-old two hours after they've gone trick-or-treating on Halloween. Only there was no vomitous action, which kind of sucks because at least I would have got rid of the pound and a bloody half... and I couldn't make it happen myself, because as daft as I am, I'm not stupid. Well... it's negotiable at this point...
Gah.
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The world is lined in white. There's been loads of snow heaped upon us in the last week, and the gravelly crunch of ice and frost and salt can be heard everywhere. It's lovely to look at, really, if one refrains from remembering that it makes the world a bloody miserable place to be when one is outdoors. From my vantagepoint of a seventh floor office with giant wall-to-wall windows, I was staring at snowflakes yesterday afternoon. Big, soft clumps of cotton wool and Irish lace that don't fall straight down but rather float from side to side as if they're visiting with each other on their way to somewhere else.
I have no use for the stuff, myself. None at all. White Christmases are lovely, if the snow falls gently and evenly on the Eve, lays pure and undriven on the 25th, and then melts completely away on Boxing Day. The rest of the year should stay lush and green, completely devoid of frozen precipitation and cold. All it does is cause accidents, freezing random, fallen calendars under ice, forcing people to slip and fall, breaking multiple bones in the process and then wasting the rest of a perfectly good year as the sun shines brightly upon their flourescent cast...
I'm just sayin'...
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What do you think of the page? This was my first choice, but the temp that moviegrrl gave me yesterday has me in love. So... I don't know. Opine away, my loves, cuz look! I've got a guestbook now!
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The odds are against me, considering my current state of unexplained mental anguish, but I'm determined to not only take off the extra poundage, but manage to have a freaking good weekend as well.
God help me if I don't.
More later, my beauties. Pray I stay out of the pantry...
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