That Last Post Was Just Me Whinging

Despite being of advanced years I still get that boring thing where you feel really moody and down for a few days every month. Which is part of the reason why I was feeling so sorry for myself when I wrote the last post.

I was mean about Swisser and Jazzer too. I do love them and they love me - it's just that they love Bert more. He is much more lovable than me, not being prickly and moody and stuff...

And I had a shitty day at work on Friday which spoiled my (lonely) weekend so it's little wonder I took to the licorice and the wine.

Then I went to the FlabFighting weigh-in and didn't lose an ounce which was a bit of a bummer. So I went home and ate an entire chocolate cake. Did I fuck! I went home and jumped on my bike and went on a three mile ride. Well - I say ride. About a third of it was downhill, a third of it fairly flat and the remaining third was hills and I have to confess I walked up a good part of those. Still it was more intense exercise than I'm used to and it was a start.

Did I ever tell youse that before I met Bert I regularly went on twenty mile bike rides? Occasionally longer runs too. God I was fit then. And did I ever mention that it wasn't until I met Bert that I started smoking regularly. Spliffs of course - but that got me started on tobacco. Then when I gave it all up, over three years ago, I piled on the weight. A couple of people told me that after two years my metabolism would steady and I'd lose it again. So I ate like a savage for two years and just kept getting steadily fatter. It took another year for me to decide to do something about it. You see I was very anti-diet, fat being a feminist issue and all that. Hadn't attempted one since my early twenties. But fat is a serious health issue when your tonnage is well into the teens of stone.

Did that bike ride again this evening, still walked up most of the hilly bits. My aim is to cycle the hills eventually. I think I can do it.

After the bike ride Bert and I did a bit of digging and weeding and raking. Then we had dinner. He had pie and I had chicken and vegetable stew. He had chocolate buns and I had melon. He drank a Guinness and I drank tea. I'm getting so strong I think I could beat him at wrestling. Especially after he'd had Guinness and pie and a spliff. And if I fought dirty. Yes. It should be easy.