24 Toasters from Scunthorpe

Prizes will be handed out to anyone who gets the reference in today's blog title.  Answers to the usual address.

It's Wednesday.  Just over 24 hours to go and I'll be hopping back on those scales for the first time in three weeks. 

I.  Am.  Terrified.

What if I've thought I've been doing the right things for the last week or two and actually I haven't and I've put a couple of stone on?  Actually, is that biologically possible?  Even if it isn't I bet I probably still would!!

When you do something unpleasant on a regular basis, the pleasantness doesn't improve, because it's always a horrible thing to do, but the discomfort does subside a little because you're used to it.  I can't really think of anything nearly as unpleasant to willingly put oneself through aside from going to work every day.  You have to do it because otherwise you starve, it isn't pleasant but you go anyway, and then you usually find it isn't quite so hellish when you get there.  Unless you work for the NHS.  Fabulous institution, Britain's best idea by miles - absolutely terrible employer. 

I'm going off-topic.

My point is, I avoided scales like the plague until January, and then I've subsequently I've hopped on a pair every week for the last 26 weeks or so.  I never liked getting on the scales but it had become a slightly less scary prospect.  After 20 days away from the scales, half of which were spent mostly in blissful varying stages of inebriation - I have roughly the same desire to get back on the scales as a Death Row convict has when offered a seat a large chair near an electric switch.

But it's one of those things, isn't it?  I've got to do it otherwise I'll just slip back into the old routine, and I really don't want that.  I've come much too far now.  Or at least I think I have.  Who knows. 

What if the worst happens?  What if I do get on the scales tomorrow and even though I've reined it back in SO much over the last ten days I've still put weight on?  Am I going to give up?  Go back to how things used to be?  Think "I'll never get there" and cry for an hour?  Probably.  But then after I've cried for an hour I'll have a stern talk to myself, stop being weak and pathetic and get the hell back on it again.  Marathon.  Not a sprint.  I will get there.  Whether that happens this year or next year.  I gave myself 18 months to do this, and on June 3rd 2013 I will look completely different to how I looked on January 1st 2012.  I will.  I'll even post pictures to prove it.

Maybe!

Join me on Friday.  I will have got back on the scales and I'll know exactly what I'm working with.  The llamas are going to have a fiesta anyway because it's the Olympics and Ricardo has decided to try and campaign for 'fiesta-ing' to be an Olympic sport.  He's even designed Team GB's legwarmers for the Rio Olympics...