So ladies (gents?), I am about to go on holiday for two weeks. This is great news, and also, slightly panic-inducing.
Not that I'm ungrateful for the wonderful holiday. But I am slightly panicking about its effect on my diet, which despite my best efforts, has seen me hover around the same 5lbs for about two months now.
I am surprised at myself for being so bothered. I am both desperate to relax, and desperate not to regain this damnable weight. I can't believe I am worried. I'm disappointed in myself for feeling this way, though will feel mighty disappointed in myself if I gain weight too.
Part of me is planning to make butter, on the basis that I can only eat what I make, and making butter involves a large physical effort, and I'll feel quite proud of myself if I manage it.
Another part of me is planning to go running and walking up massive hills, so that I can eat some cake.
I've never been this worried before. I've always just sodded it and enjoyed myself. I don't really like this at all, and I can only assume it's the natural progression of dichotomous (real word?) thoughts from the post below.
Yes, I am on a diet that allows me to eat as much as I want of most foods. I can have figs, artichokes, wild musrooms, risotto, pasta, potatoes, steak. But sadly, the list doesn't include criossants, stinky and disintegrating french cheese and red wine. Those count. I can have them, but I can't have them with abandon.
Why am I depressed about this? I don't know. I feel pathetic, but may actually cry if I gain more than a couple of lbs.