This evening Mr W. & I spent a pleasurable half an hour in the bedroom. No, you dirty minded sods, not doing that.
Some friends visited today & we took advantage of some strong, fully working arms & retrieved a bag of old clothes from the loft. You know the ones, those garments that stopped fitting long ago, but you just couldn’t bear to condemn to the charity shop. “It’ll only take a month to get back in them once we start the diet next week”, or “It’s only because we overdid it at Christmas, we’ll be back in them come summer”.
I’m slightly ashamed to admit that these had been loitering in their dusty repose since we moved in here 3 years ago. That was a hell of a long month.
Picking out each item was like a trip down memory lane, remembering where we wore one jumper, laughing when we bought the “Who Ate All the Pies” t-shirt. Though there were a few bits we didn’t even remember, and a couple that even still had their tags on!
I’m not going to tell you they all fit, they didn’t, but a large proportion of them did. The buzz of seeing those size 24 labels & trying them on to find they no longer cling, stretch & come up short like they did when they were banished to the loft is a joy I will never get tired of. And just the push I needed to get me out of my post Christmas weight loss lull.
The scales are squinted warily at every morning at the moment. They’ve been teasing me with breaking into the 160’s again since boxing day, but despite being good it just won’t budge. I even ate a Mars bar today purely of out pique.
In a couple of weeks I’ll be starting my cardio rehab exercise program, and I’m confident that will get the numbers moving again. I was going to wait until I started to refocus, but tonight’s fashion show has given me renewed motivation. I’ve done my wallowing the past couple of days, now I have a reason to push on. Our new old clothes that are currently spinning happily in the washing machine.
Size 20 here I come!