Best of diets, worst of diets

It was the best if diets, it was the worst of diets, it was healthy breakfasts, it was foolish lunches, it was the epoch of sensible, it was the epoch of hash browns, it was the season of snacking, it was the spring of hope, it was the summer of despair, we had everything for dinner, we had nothing for breakfast, one of us is going to heaven, the other is... Actually. Scratch that last bit, that really is incredulous.

I'm sure Dickens would be turning in his grave at the deviant distortion of the opening lines in a Tale of Two Cities. Obviously I used this introduction, or similar, sometime ago when we first started the diet. But this week it seems apt.

Steak and peppers. Not chips.

If you've not been paying attention I'll give a summary. My lovely flatmate went on holiday. I stayed at home. She calimari and fruit. I ate steak. Twice. She barely touched the winez. I may have had an evening of debauchery. Really, it was not ideal. I definitely let things slip. Didn't walk enough and generally did things I ought not do.

At least I didn't eat blue ice cream.

So it was with some trepidation I got on the scales... 89.8kg. Eh, wait a minute, that's the same as last week. My flatmate? Well, after tiddling around at the top of the stairs trying to think of a reason to get on, she did... 69.3kg which is slightly up on her last official weigh in, but heh, she has been on holiday and I think that's allowed. Plus, she'd already had a cup of tea before standing on the judgement device.

So we've pretty much stood still, but that's better than the alternative. Time to get back in to the diet.