It's weigh day. Once again I consider the point that having my weigh day on a Monday is not really helping me behave at the weekend and is actually contributing to high stress levels! I was very good all week, except for the occasional slip and indulging in the odd ice cream here or there. I mean, it's hot, very bloody hot and one needs to cool down with ice cold treats! But the weekend came along, and while I was good with food, I was brutal, and I mean brutal, with drink.
I had my wonderful friend over for dinner on Saturday night. I made us the diet coke chicken, fast becoming a signature dish, and syn free fried rice. I also made a skinny eton mess for dessert and, even if I do say so myself, it was all very tasty. So far so good. But then I had some wine and the booze hound in me came bounding across country, ears flapping in the wind, howling and foaming at the mouth. God I love the wine. It was a lovely Merlot I was having. Delicious, and convenient too because you don't have to go to the bother of chilling the stuff. Sure if it took your fancy you could happily drink it from the bottle off the shelf in the store. This is obviously not deemed socially acceptable behaviour and you would most likely be arrested, so I wouldn't encourage you to do this – just because you could, doesn't mean you should.
After a couple of glasses of this fine wine the good girl in me up and left and in her stead was the master of the booze hound, The Muncher! I wasn't as bad as I usually am, but I did make my way through a lot of nachos and salsa dip – could have been worse. It could have been the spicy cheese dip…
I awoke on Sunday morning feeling surprisingly fresh, with a tongue coated in tortilla chips and a thirst on me that would slay a dragon. I think the heat (of course it was the heat) had me dehydrated. I must have drank about 3 litres of water before breakfast!! Awaking Sunday morning did not send the booze hound back to her kennel… oh no! She was free and roaming around unsupervised and getting into all sorts of trouble. I was going to see Mumford and Sons in the park and myself and himself headed off into the city centre to watch the Dubs beat Meath (GAA football teams to those who don't know! Don't ask me anything else about the GAA, because I know nothing!) and sure we had a few drinks while we were there. And fish in batter. And chips. And no veggies at all at all. And when we went to the concert, sure there were a few more drinks had. As well as a mighty fine time!
I did try to prepare for my weekend. I went walking a couple of times last week. And I like to think that all the buck leaping around the place last night burned at least some of the calories off. I mean, surely it counts for something? But nothing, and I mean nothing, could prepare me for the dirty big beef curry and fried rice that I got from Charlies 3 on the way home from the concert. I went in to that place and I knew that I wanted chicken and blackbean sauce and boiled rice. That's what I decided on before I got there, that's what my lips formed to say but then BAM! Out of my mouth pops the words "beef curry and egg fried rice please"… I had to run away and let himself pay for it because I could feel the words "and a spring roll too" escaping my wayward lips.
I don't care. It was worth it.
So weigh day is here. Animal Control have found the booze hound and locked her up, for now. I am eating fruit and veggies like no body's business. I know that the weekend I am recovering slowly from is not going to make me happy when I approach TSC (the soul crusher).
Wish me luck…