I've just poured myself a glass of wine. Well, half a glass. Guiltily, I looked over at Ro, who is presently talking to a friend on Skype or something similar. I'm immensely pleased to see that he's got a glass of Guinness balanced on the arm of his chair, so I need not feel guilty at all.
I'm back on track, but with difficulty. I ate another small piece of Christmas cake the day after the first, but fortunately the Sage and Ro had scarfed all the mince pies. On Thursday, I went to yet another Christmas dinner and ate pretty well all my helping of Christmas pud, but not the mince pie that followed, and I've been virtue personified since then. It's not easy at this time of year, because you eat out so much in a party-type atmosphere. it's easier in restaurants in fact, because there's no feeling of being a bad guest if you don't clear your plate and if there's a menu rather than a set meal, you can try to choose lighter dishes. Sometimes there just aren't any, though. Something that sounds light is loaded with cream.
I don't mind the thought of relaxing a bit over Christmas, but I know how discouraged I'll feel if I put on weight, so best not. So I must still follow the steep and thorny path, with the additional hazard of trying to look carefree about it and not harping on about being careful because I don't want to spoil other people's enjoyment.
The thing is, I know only too well that one can diet strenuously and successfully, but then get bored. And that's when you're vulnerable, because you have succeeded in losing weight, so you think that it doesn't matter if you put on a pound or two because you know how to lose it again, but it's not that easy a second time. And, because you're temporarily off the diet, you don't weigh yourself, so when you do you find you've added a good half stone and you are so filled with self-hate that you give up.
That is bloody well not going to happen.
The other difficulty is that my hips hurt and my right knee hurts and cycling is a complete bitch. I hate it, I'm miserable and I'm tired, and breathless after the gentlest hill. This is really taking all my self-motivation. I'm just about managing ten or so miles a week, which I know is rubbish but it really is the best I can do in this miserable weather.