After the disappointment of having lost *no* weight last week, I met someone on Monday evening who said ‘What happened? You were looking so good the last time I saw you but I think you’ve put on weight again.’ So I punched her in the face. OK, no, I didn’t. But I wanted to. Instead I told her to get her eyes checked. I was already irritated about not losing any weight and she wasn’t helping. I’ve been snappish since then. Isn’t it incredible that sometimes all it takes is one (irrelevant) person to bring you down?
On Tuesday I told Gus I hadn’t lost any weight since the last time I weighed myself a few weeks ago. He said I was losing fat, not weight, and that I shouldn’t worry about it. That made me feel a bit calmer, because I have been working my ass off. Literally. He asked me to keep another food diary for the week. Oh good, I’m in Paris for the weekend too. I haven’t had bread since 1st October – but I intend to have a croissant while I’m there!
I decided that because I was away on Friday, I’d do my cardio on Wednesday and Thursday instead of my usual Thursday and Friday. I don’t know what happened to me on Thursday but I had a ‘blonde’ moment. I got to the gym, sat at the bike, adjusted the seat, put my headphones on and pressed the ‘Quick Start’ button. Nothing happened. Weird. I tried again but nothing happened. I leaned over and pressed the same button on the next bike. Again, nothing. It was like the situation with my dryer all over again. I looked around, went over to one of the trainers and asked him whether the bikes were working? He said that they wouldn’t work until you started pedalling. Doh! How could I not have known that after all these weeks?? I felt *so* stupid.
On Friday morning the girls and I left home at 7am and headed to St Pancras for our 8am train to Paris. I took a banana and some almonds for the journey as I didn’t want to eat rubbish on the train – I was saving myself for Paris! Considering how much temptation there is in that city, I think I did pretty well with the food – I ordered a pastry (millefeuille au chocolat) at Ladurée (but couldn’t finish the whole thing), I had a couple of French fries on Friday night at dinner and a croissant on Saturday morning, but the rest of the time I stuck to a decent diet.
On the alcohol side – well… I met up with a friend I hadn’t seen in 15 years and we caught up over a few beers, reminiscing about the summer of 1996 in Myrtle Beach (where all we did was drink beer). I had a glass of red wine with my dinner on Friday night too. On Saturday night back in London I had dinner with my cousin at Bincho – we polished off two flasks of hot sake – and we went on to a bar where I had one vodka soda…
But you know what? I don’t think it matters. It’s one weekend out of many and they’re meant to be enjoyed. N’est-ce pas?
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