But let me explain:
[Insert many and various excuses here]
I’m all out of excuses this time. I have one reason, and that’s this:
I felt like eating.
For two whole months, nothing but eating and thinking, “Wow, my hip’s starting to hurt when I walk again! Huh, must be putting on weight. I should really do something about that.”
The problem is that I didn’t do something about it, haven’t done something about it yet, but I’m going to, once again.
(I’m over the bullshit of second chances. I don’t have to give myself “second chances”. It’s all just an extended “first chance” – I’m fucking living in my first chance and just screwing it up all the time.)
So what’m I going to do about it this time?
For once thing, I’m going to stop lying to myself.
- I eat too much junk, and not enough good, healthy food.
- I do NOT HAVE TO EAT the food my parents prepare for me if it’s unhealthy. Just don’t “nip down to ASDA” and buy “something” – that something is always a sandwich and a wrap, a packet of crisps and something chocolatey. Past few times, it’s actually involved a Devon cream indulgence pack thing, which is easily 800+ calories.
- Try, for the love of the wee green apples, not to go for take-away as often. McDonalds is not a viable food group.
- I know it’s nummy, but cut down on the butter.
See, what I realised was that, a week yesterday, I’m going to a Paramore concert in Glasgow, and I’m in the standing section.
I don’t know how I’m going to stand for two hours or so. When I was walking around ASDA last night (no crisps or Devon cream indulgence, but I did buy Snickers and Haagen Dazs :(.), by the time I got to the checkout, I was literally leaning on the checkout, or leaning over my trolley, pretending to check in my bag for something, because my hip was that sore.
So I have to do something. When my hip gets sore like that, it normally means I’m up past 400lbs, but since my scales don’t go above 400lbs, I don’t actually know how bad it is.
(Bad enough, I think. MORE than bad enough.)
FFS, self, you really need to stop these relapses. They hurt more than you might realise.
(On a minutely positive side: at least my ankles haven’t started swelling again. I hate that.)