£8 wine (pricey) and HIMYM for my night in aloooooone *sobs* (Taken with instagram)
Afternoon stout and damson jam break :) (Taken with instagram)
So, this exists. It’s like it is really me and Marley - only it really isn’t
So, I’m turning the big 2-3 a week on Monday and I’m feeling excessively analytical about how my life has turned out thus far and the choices I’ve been making. Example: today, despite knowing I have gained a whopping 2 stone since last year, I chose to drink two cups of tea with milk and sugar even though I prefer my tea black, and I accompanied those with loads of stale biscuits I don’t really like. WHY.MUST.I.DO.THIS.TO.MYSELF?
Here’s what’s happening to me right now:
It’s just got all a bit…not good. I have finally let myself go. The trouble is that I didn’t let myself go willingly, this wasn’t a passive act. My fitness regime and semi-healthy lifestyle was snatched from me by the pressures of adult life (whingewhingewhinge). There are just not enough hours in the day to do everything, eat healthily, exercise and still lead a relatively fun and fulfilling life.
How are people doing it? HOW.
If i don’t find out I am going to balloon. Next birthday you will see me on a generic fat person television programme, stuffing a whole birthday cake into my gob with the candles still lit, a crowd of shocked nutritionists/gastric band fitting doctors stood by the couch my skin has fused to as I haven’t moved in months, the first note of happy birthday still on their lips….
It will be exactly like that. exactly.
Around Christmas time (foolish, I know) I tried to sort this all out in readiness for my upcoming birthday, it hasn’t happened. Life moved too fast and here I am, the fattest I’ve ever been, the oldest I’ve ever been and the most miserable.
Time to sort it out. *Shakes head in disbelief*
Cheeky little Shiraz
Dinner- steak, wedges, lettuce, ciabatta & grilled tomatoes. Deeeeelish. Can’t move now.
