Weekends, inevitably, lead to temptation. Temptation in the form of things that are contrary to the Diet Pact. Though I did try to limit them and also managed to avoid the winez. Which, given where I was at the weekend was a minor miracle. But still the food was less than optimal, in my case, mostly because the nearly-ex can't quite see why I would want to diet.
Anyway. I was suspicious that the Monday weigh-in wouldn't be good as, frankly, things in the clothing department were still tight. Not good.
Originally we'd planned to stand nervously on the scales on Monday evening, but this wouldn't be possible, my flatmate was at the opera with a gentleman friend whilst I would be demonstrating just how dim-witted and lacking in general knowledge I am with my bezzie in a pub quiz.
I can assure you we didn't plan it like this.
Which meant the weigh in had to be this morning. Excellent! Bad news to start to day... We stripped, well, I did, she was still in her dressing gown, we weighed, we gulped and then... We did it all again because we couldn't remember what the numbers were. We are useless. On the plus side we did have a lot of giggling at how useless we are.
So how bad was the bad news? Well, for Clare it was the positively marvellous news that she had slimmed to a svelte 69.4Kg and dropped below the psychological 70 barrier, where as I was 95Kg. I didn't quite cry. She'd lost 1.4Kg and I'd managed a paltry, hardly worth measuring 0.4. What?! I didn't even have winez!
Okay, so now I am crying at the thought.
It's just so unfair. But I know I've been good so the really good news will come next week, yes? This was just a fluid blip. Or something. Or the scales are faulty. And I had eaten my breakfast at that point. That'll be it.
Assuming a small bowl of flakes with a small amount of milk weights 1Kg.
The big question though, was would the initial progress be enough, would she be able to get in the frock by the time the christening rolled around in a couple of weeks time. Only one way to find out! Back upstairs we ran, frock found and... I really do hate her. It fits. And she looks amazing. And I reckon now she's 1.4Kg lighter I can throw her in the canal.
The good news is that another two weeks like that and she'll be ready to wow the vicar. Especially if a few more continent crossing runs are involved. But what about me? The fat and frumpy one. Well, my-lovely-and-I've-totally-forgiven-her-everything-because-she's-fab flatmate has said that if we lose weight this week we should hit Dukes for martinis.
Now that is an incentive, 'tinis, frivolous frocks and an excuse to be mildly outrageous. Not that I ever am, obvs. Though thinking about the last few times I've been in Dukes, it's never ended well. Err, actually, no, it's always ended well.
Wasn't that first on the list of ways to lose weight?