Scales of justice

It wasn't a good weekend for diets. Actually, generally, but that's old news.

In the my case the nearly-ex has also started a diet, Slimming World I think, which means can eat loads of allowed things. Which is directly the opposite of the Contrary Towers diet where you eat little/sensibly/tasty, exercise lots and drink champagne. The last bit is the magic ingredient.

So I ate too much.

Orphaned tomatoes...

That and I get the feeling they were trying to sabotage my diet as it *is* intended to take me down a dress size or two. So I was deeply grateful to get home, having walked from the station and been offered a most delicious meal of tomatoes, mushrooms, left over chicken and a little... Dirty toast. Oh yes. My lovely flatmate had thrown caution to the wind and bought white bread.

On the subject of which...

She also stands accused of committing a crime as defined by the Diet Pact 2012. She ate sausage. No, not like that. Cumberland I believe. With dirty bread. The scales of justice will judge her.  That said, I actually think they will be kind as she is looking very trim and has a very enviable bottom. Pfft. What was I saying about never having liked her?

To be fair, she did accept a penance and went for a sprint session, which she hates, which I'm sure will be taken in to account when the scales judge our week of mild decadence.

As an emergency austerity measure, we did go for a walk down the tow-path, around Limehouse Basin and up to Mile End park, again via the tow path. At the park we did a particularly tricky assault course to help improve our general fitness. Any resemblance of the assault course to the climbing area in the park is purely coincidental. According to miCoach, which I did switch off when climbing, I covered just shy of 3 miles and burnt 306 pie points. It would have shown more if the stupid thing had worked. And I'd remembered to switch it back on after the climbing time. What was puzzling was that Clare was showing an awful lot more pie points. Which didn't seem at all fair. Something was amiss.

Anyway. The walk was good, got me back in the swing of things and, frankly, it was a bit late to salvage...

The weigh in.

Here we go, I'm 90.8kg, the accused is 68.7kg. Which I'm actually quite pleased about as the weekend did included a lot more food than I would normally have. My lovely flatmate is less pleased at her 0.2kg loss, but she has had a really good week! And sausages... So, one more kg gone and I'm teetering on the edge of a psychological checkpoint (for pounds) which isn't far from one for both stone and kgs. Which has to be good. It does mean that I am actually going to be slightly good this week as I would like to hit the triple...

Next week will be weird. I will be home alone so I'll just have to make up the numbers for my flatmate. I suppose though it will at least mean I am less tempted to be frivolous as, obviously, I am the responsible one here. Yes?

Oh...