I knew my weight had been creeping up but when I got on the scales this morning I leapt off again squealing. So it's time to take this seriously.
I'm setting myself the challenge of losing a pound a week for the next 8 weeks. That's doable, isn't it? If I give up bread and cheese, chocolate and cake. Oh let's just give up living.
No, I am going to look on this as a challenge, like people who climb Mount Everest for fun. I'm going to be positive and excited and happy about the change I will see in myself. Yes, yes, I will.
Of course I've also committed to writing 50,000 words during November. So I will be hungry, miserable and stressed.
No, no, this is going to be fun. I can do this. Think how happy I'll be at the end. Positive thoughts. I can talk myself into this. I can. I can. Like the little train going up the hill, I think I can, I think I can.
But first allow me some time to curl up into a small ball and whinge pathetically about how I didn't think I'd eaten that much AND I thought I was getting more exercise AND how come it's so much easier to put on weight than to lose it?
Oh plifille plhopple.