Thursday 23rd July 2020
After a very short sleep, I drag myself out of bed and get on the scales. No change since yesterday. I’m too tired to care.
My brain is struggling to comprehend simple tasks, I decide to give my morning walk a miss today. Even though I know it will probably make me feel better.
I’m feeling lazy and deflated but surprisingly I’m not hungry. I decide to skip breakfast so I can enjoy a delicious lunch. I’m determined not to let the hangover get to me and ruin what little progress I have made.
At lunch time, I’m still feeling lethargic, I’m still not particularly hungry but I know I need to eat something so I grab a slice of leftover Turkish bread from last night. Bloody delicious.
An hour or so later, hunger starts to kick in. I fancy something savoury. Ooh I have a packet of salt and vinegar squares in the cupboard. Yesss they can be my breakfast replacement. So nutritious. Upon opening the cupboard to get them, I see the giant bag of poppables my friend brought over yesterday. No, just stick to the squares, they’ll fill you up. They did, but what does that matter when one is hungover? All I can think of now are the poppables, which I’ve never tried before. It’s like they’re calling out to me. POOF! They are now open in front of me and half empty. “You’re full” I tell myself “just a couple more” that bastard version of me replies. I eventually take the bag back to the cupboard, having eaten three quarters of the bag. I check my calories, still manageable, and, if I abstain from wine tomorrow night I will make it through the week in a deficit. Ooh wine. There’s that bitch voice again. I tell the husband I might have a glass of wine. He tells me I’m not allowed, because earlier I told him not to let me have a glass of wine. When he actually does as I ask, for once, I am mortally offended. This is 2020, I am an independent woman and will not be controlled by anyone, least of all a man. I am now sat smugly opposite him at the table with a glass of wine. I’ll show him.
“Shall we get a curry tonight?” I almost cover my mouth with my hand. Why did I just say that? There are perfectly good Waitrose ready meals in the fridge for this exact occasion (my laziness) Alas, it’s too late, I give up the fight and end up drinking two bottles of wine and ordering a curry, which weirdly I only ate half of. I should be ashamed, but right now, I’m too drunk to care.
