I am not impressed. Not in the slightest bit impressed. All my running and walking and, more importantly, puking and passing out didn't do me a blind bit of good this week.
Now, I do realise that it's not a full week since the last time I got up on that soul crusher (aka the scales) and I also realise that it was a different soul crusher that I was on last week. But nevertheless I am not a happy bunny!
The only thing that consoled me as my life flashed before my weak as a kitten body and I clung to the toilet willing myself through the next attack of the "hoof it ups" was the thought that it would be ok sure when I next get weighed I'll be about 15 stone lighter!
That was not the case. Up 1.5 feckin pounds! Eh WFT?
My leader says to me if I'm not back to eating correctly my body could be in shock. Now come here lads. How do people with eating disorders get skinny if that's the case? Not that I am encouraging or belittling anyone in that situation.
Anyway. I'm highly disgusted.
So back to the drawing board for this week. Up a feckin pound and a half! So I shall be trotting along the canal at lunch and malahide to portmarnock in the evenings this week. Do stop me and say hello if you see me panting past!