Land of Confusion

Ah, it's Friday!  It means most of us in dear old Blighty will be looking forward to four whole days off work - with pay!  However, it turns out I've got to work tomorrow, so I'll have three whole days off work, which is almost as good.  And the weather has sorted itself out just in time for an epic bank holiday.  Yes, that's right - gone are the sizzling tropical temperatures, the humid air, the old men traipsing round town just wearing a little pair of shorts and socks with sandals (why oh why?!) and the threat of a nice barbecue in the back garden.  The air has regained the usual summertime nippiness we're used to, the skies are a sort of charcoal grey colour and the weather has been, as they call it in Spain (Joanna reliably tells me this, and she's very good at Spanish, so she should know) "El Pissi Downio".  Ah, yes.  British Summertime.  It's back, and I love it.

So, things are going very well.  I'd like to thank Anonymous for their lovely and very encouraging comment from Wednesday's blog.  It turns out that my block lifted quite substantially after that lovely advice and some equally kind and helpful tips from Mr L.  Although I've still not really got a plot together yet, I have indeed made a start on the Western (tentatively entitled The Western With No Name).  Turns out it had no intention of ever being a book, it wanted to be a screenplay all along.  Which in some ways is slightly easier, I'm much better with dialogue than narrative, but even though you only really need minimal narrative for a screenplay I still don't think I have enough.  But I'll come back to it later when I've figured out more of a structure to the story.  My biggest problem is that I want it to be instantly perfect, rather than just acknowledging that the first three or four rewrites are going to be ropey at best before I get it close to being right and writing it anyway.  I bet Joss Whedon didn't write The Avengers perfectly on his first run-through!!

I know what you're thinking.  'She's avoiding the weight-loss topic'.  Well, yes.  I am. 

I put half a pound on.  I have no idea how.  I was doing really well, I'd been dead good, I hadn't cheated (there's no point in cheating because the only person who suffers is me) - I was at least hoping for a couple of pounds' loss.  Maybe even three.  But putting half a pound on?!  What the -?!?!!

Baffled.  Stumped.  Bamboozled.  Flabbergasted.  Discombobulated.  Narked.  All appropriate adjectives to describe my reaction to the number on the scales yesterday.

Enrique was quite relieved I'd put weight on.  He's still convinced he has athlete's hoof from when I sent them swimming last Friday and has taken to his bed with bandages from hoof to fetlock on all four of his little legs.  The rest of the llamas were delighted to have another week off and have all gone on a coach holiday to Blackpool for the weekend.  If you're in the Blackpool area and come across a collective of llamas in gold lamee leg warmers, go and join them, they're a great bunch of lads!!

I mean, things aren't all bad news.  I'm getting smaller.  If I'm honest with myself about my original starting size (i.e. Beyond Huge.  If there was a dress size that could be renamed "AY CHIHUAHA!!" that'd probably be where I was!), I've actually lost three dress sizes already and I'm probably only another stone away from hitting the fourth.  So actually I've not done at all badly.  It's just one of those things.  Maybe it was just the way I held my gob when I stood on the scales.  Who knows.  I'm lots thinner than I was, and that's a fact.  I just need to be... you know.  Thinner than this.  And I will be.  This time in three months I might've lost another two sizes and then I'll be very nearly almost there.

You know what it'll involve, of course.  I've been threatening it and then putting it off since January, but I am actually going to have to... I can't even bring myself to say it.  You know, though.  And I know.  It's got to be done, there's truly nothing else for it.  I have plans and extremely good intentions, I just have no willpower!!  I hate running, walking round an industrial estate is no fun, and I'm just not disciplined enough to attempt any form of E***cise at home!!  Gah!!  That blasted E word.  Why is it never fun?!  If I could do the E word and not notice I was doing it, that'd be brilliant!

Ho hum.

Join me next Wednesday, if you don't mind.  I'll be taking Monday off due to the Bank Holiday and I'll probably still be in a very dark state of depression following my birthday on Sunday.  I get SO depressed on my birthday, there's literally no point in even acknowledging my existence, you'll only end up similarly suicidal!  I don't want to be old!  Don't make me!!  Nooooo!!!  PETER PAN NEVER HAD TO DO IT!!!

I dread to even think how I'll cope next year when I hit the big Three-Oh...!!  *shudder*