I’m pretty much exactly halfway in my latest attempt at dieting, with the aim of shedding eight pounds by Easter (target weight: 17st 5lbs).
It must be said, things are going pretty well. I have just weighed myself and the scales – with whom I am now back on first name terms after a major falling-out over Christmas – declared my current weight as 17st 6lbs, which means I am just one pound short of my target with four weeks still to go.
I’ve given myself an encouraging pat on the back and am now optimistically reassessing my target; I’m thinking 17st 2lbs, which represents a further pound a week to Easter.
By the time Heather’s dad and family arrive from Perth on their holiday in late May, I want to be lighter than I was when we last saw them two years ago: pretty much bang on 17st, from memory. That would essentially mean losing a stone in total in just over three months, which I would be very happy with.
I don’t see why I can’t achieve that, as I don’t actually feel I’ve got out of second gear so far. I’ve certainly been concentrating on eating more sensibly at work and cutting out the snacks, while allowing myself one day a week where I treat myself to whatever I fancy (a denial-and-reward routine which has worked well for me in the past). But I still haven’t actually managed to squeeze any exercise into my evenings, which I know is something I need to do regardless of the weight loss because I have never felt as unfit as I currently do.
So, really I’ve done pretty well in spite of my continuing laziness by just applying a modicum of self-discipline. Can’t complain. Anyhow, no point dwelling on the negatives; I prefer to think of it as having an extra gear in hand for when I need it down the final stretch.
Now it’s time for my breakfast of gruel and water. Honest.