Friday, August 19, 2011

wagon get off

I've fallen off the wagon.


I'm not smoking, but I AM eating.

I'm eating like someone who has been locked in a basement for eight years - solid and in the dark - with nothing but air and mould to eat, when one day someone comes along to set them free, and immediately places them in the middle of a cake factory.

And the previously-captured mouldatarian dry humps cake vats whilst stuffing said cake into hole in face, in a forage of chocolate gateau crumbs and excitable sweat.

Dude. That's me. This week.

The colleague that I have been tag-teaming on our rigorous WeightWatchers regime has unwittingly gone on holiday to Guernsey this week. Leaving me to my own weight watching devices.

First chink in the chain leading to food-induced mega-meltdown.

I was doing fine until Wednesday. When a group of us went to thee most wankworthy Mexican restaurant this side of Acapulco. It's off Warren Street, if anyone is interested.

Starters were ordered to share, everything from melted cheese to floury tacos to salsa's and guacamole's and margaritas and Jesus I can't even remember because I went ballistic.

And it was the tastiest food sensation I've had in fucking weeks. I literally slide off my chair in post coital delight.

Then last night we had a mate around and opened a bottle of [it wasn't Diemersfontein, so does it even matter?] pinotage.

And henceforth decided to eat twenty chocolate biscuits.

I've put on 400 grams. According to my scale of Death.

That's like, what, a pencil?

Gutted. And to make matters worse had a dream last night that I was smoking cigarettes.
And in the dream I remember saying, "Oh it's fine. This is a dream, and so I can smoke as much as I want."


Gah! Fuck asshole cuntish control. AND! I cycled to work pretty much every day this week.


Flarkit said...

Awww... sucha pity. but-wait, cycling has to count for summing, dunnit?

I was doing pretty well throught the winter, but 2 weekends of social activity have put a major dent in my good intentions too. Why does rewarding onesself end up with extra cm on the spare tyre, demmit?

Monkigirl said...

pffft, so you fell off. Don't beat yourself up over it. Just get up off the cookie factory floor, brush off the crumbs, and get back on the wagon. You caved, it's over, look ahead! I've been there...

Peas on Toast said...

Thanks dudes.

It kills me though how much hard work it was to lose 4 kilos (6 weeks) and it's taken two fucking days to put weight back on.

What a hard, long horrible little road.

Flarkit it's good to know I'm not alone, and Monkigirl you're right. I just have to dust myself off and start again.
* grumble grumble.*

Majid Ali said...

Please for Christ sake help this poor boy from Haiti

Peas on Toast said...

Majid.......hi. For Christ sake who is this boy?

Revolving Credit said...

I will refer you to last week's comment:

Hope they're making a comeback..for all our sakes.

Here's another banana-chocolate-syrup pancake!

Peas on Toast said...

Haaa Rev - BOOB FAIL?

But this begs the question - what happens if you're an ass man? As in, you don't mind small boobs (which mine are already), but prefer a small backside?

I just ate a salad. Gah. Depressing.

Flarkit said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Flarkit said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Flarkit said...

Heck, why stress over it? Get on with being healthy and dinna worry.

Has you asked the S/O whether he minds??

"So Babe, do you think I'm fat?"

Oh wait. Nooo....

Revolving Credit said...

OK, I'll check out your ass if you insist! ;)

Flirty 30 said...

Ah Peas I feel your pain & anguish! I am in the same boat!

Have to lose 16kgs for Thailand in less than 80 days and I have been eating my weight in Tim Tam Double Coated biscuits and juicy sweet koeksisters - all because I am about to miss my deadline and I am in a huge stressing panic attack.

Sending you strength... because I am clearly not using it!