The other day I decided: I look fabulous. I decided that I would always think I look fabulous, not just when I’m scrubbed up and frocked up and posed to hide the turkey wings and chins. You see, I’ve been a bit down on myself lately. I’ve gained three kilos since July, fully half of the weight I chiselled off in the first half of 08. It’s easy to look in the mirror and only see my thickened waist and heavy thighs. I'm a champion at looking at a photo and only seeing the spare tyre and the overbite. I have decided to break that habit. My measurements and my weight are not my worth. I look great all the time because I am LBTEPA and I say so. Sometimes even out loud.As for that pesky lard, don’t think I don’t have a plan, cos by crikey I do! Mwahahaha!
Now the Plan is This: after the sherbet-fuelled scoff-fest and party-extravaganza that is December in our household (I blame my inlaws; if they’d canoodled in January 1961 instead of March the Spousal Unit J would have a nice convenient October birthday instead of exposing us to incipient hyperglycaemia every Christmas), there will be no chips, no chocolate, and no cake of any kind for the duration (other than in exceptional circumstances). I’ll restart my strategy of five days a week with no more than one drink, and only after 9pm (so I’m having it because I want to, not to mute the chaos). I’ll write ‘STOP’ on my hand so as to thwart its frequent sneaky forays to the cracker jar. Most importantly, I will move my lardy - yet fabulous - posterior every day. I’ve fallen into the trap of saying oh woe, oh woe, I haven’t (made/organised/managed) enough time for the workout I planned. Well fine, I’ll just sulk and fold washing instead. Then suddenly it's been three days since I last worked out and my pants are even tighter.
All very basic and Captain Obvious. I don't like to fail. All the 'wins' in this plan are behavioural rather than weight based because, well, me and the Scale Gods, we don't get on. I don't need those b#$%&*s messing with my head. Don't tell anyone, but my real aim is to look sensational in my new red dress, which is only ok at the moment if I concentrate really hard on sucking my tummy in. I'll let you know how it goes...
Next: LBTEPA decides that two weeks is not enough preparation for an Olympic distance tri.
More anon, Fancy Nancies!













more anon, mood elevators!

