The last month or so has been disappointing.
I rolled into the new year feeling positive, full of vim and vigour and determined to make positive changes and feel happier. And for a short time it worked.
On 3rd January I joined weight watchers and felt like I was completely In The Zone, somewhere I hadn’t been in a good 3 years. I was enjoying the things that I was eating and found that so long as I wasn’t overly ambitious, I did have the energy to cook low fat, delicious food in the evenings. I present to you, for example, my chicken fatteh:
But then things started to go a little bit wrong. I tripped over an uneven paving stone on the way home from work (yes, I was sober) and ended up in a huge amount of pain. My energy levels took a dive and I started to struggle. A week later, I ate oysters and started vomiting…and vomiting…and vomiting. I had 4 days off work and have been feeling pretty shocking since I returned which was almost 2 weeks ago.
As if that isn’t enough, I now have a horrible cold and chest infection and I feel dreadful. I can’t sleep, my spirits are incredibly low, I have no energy. The thought of having to see people and do anything is completely overwhelming (Dear friends, I love you, honest. Please don’t hate me.)
I have fallen off the weight watchers wagon after losing 8 ½ pounds in 4 weeks. I couldn’t go today to face up to the damage because I was trying (and failing) to get antibiotics. I’m slightly relieved as I just can’t face the disappointment and disgust with myself.
Fat Fran isn’t getting Fin. I’m horribly aware that I’m going to Australia in 2 months and I’m going to be a huge fatty which is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.
I just can’t make this work.