Continuing the fascinating peek into the world of my ‘I’m on yet another diet’ eating habits, what follows is a series of pictures leading up to a big fail. Saturday. Big fail.
Best day in ages, it was.
Before then, however, earlier in the week I had what was romantically called a ‘granola parfait’ but really was a bit of muesli and yoghurt muddled together in a parfait glass. I paid about £5 for it, if I recall rightly. Must’ve been aces.*
Then on Friday night me and the boyfriend had sushi which was a relaxing of The Rules through addition of rice (soft, delicious rice) and soy sauce (sexy salt bloat). It was great. I was briefly in a good mood after eating this. Didn’t last.
A rather large lunch, over the weekend. This was post-wagon falling so I was probably not yet fully into self-recrimination and flagellation. Today, Monday, I’m all over that punishment shit.
The reason for the whole falling off the wagon thing was due to a trip we took on the lovely hot Saturday, to the coast, to visit some family at their new (and very enviable) beach house. They served up carbs in delicious forms, including WINE and POTATO and BREADSTICKS and I partook, joyously. It was a slope as slippery as the beachy seaweed. I got pissed on 2 glasses of wine, so I had of course a total of at least 4.
The sea was actually a bit blue, which for British sea is a bit weird.
Now the worst bit. Wasn’t enough that I had sinned so awfully at lunch (more to come on that shortly) but that we got home and ordered dirty pizza and cracked another bottle of wine. I ate all the pizza you can see, but somewhere in my warped brain the fact I didn’t eat the crusts put me in calorie-credit.
I am an idiot.
And below you see before you the glory that is a slice of Vienetta, which we were gifted with dessert back at the beachouse.
I love Vienetta. Who knew it wasn’t classy? Not me.
Anyway today it’s back to rabbit food and exercise. I’m miserable again but that brief experience of life as a normal was wonderful.
Skinny jeans still don’t fit.