Milestone

I had a bit of a bad week last week diet-wise. I kept craving chocolate and the bit of my brain that has been saying "no. Do you need it or do you just want it? Hmm? Think about it, kitten" was clamouring with the rest of my brain for some chocolatey goodness. So I was fretting a bit that I've been piling it on and had put off weighing myself. This week is my attempt to get back into good habits, in theory, although despite running in my lunch hour on Monday, Big Sis and I spent the evening swathed in blankets, munching chocolate cakes and watching very skinny women on two, count 'em two, modelling reality TV shows. Living, how I love thee. I'm actually starting to wonder whether Make Me A Supermodel is actually better than ANTM - possibly because Tyra is so now so insane that ANTM has become one of the oddest viewing experiences. The audition process for series 12 took place in Las Vegas (there was some pre-credit nutty justification that 12 flipped is 21 which meant gambling which meant Las Vegas. Of course, Tyra, of course, carry on, you mentalist) at Caesar's Palace and there was a whole Goddess-themed thing going on. It was so ridiculous - the trainee goddesses walking on clouds while in the background, t-shirted and sunburnt tourists looked on, Tyra making her entrance with a load of centurions as the Goddess of Fierce - she is officially delusional now. Bless her. Even the Jays are starting to look a combination of resigned/scared for their lives.

When these men are nervous of excess, the Apocalypse is probably looming.

Anyway, back to me. I decided to weigh myself this morning despite recent chocolate cake consumption and have broken a significant barrier. I've plateaued around the same point for about a month or so, which I blame on the steady number of barbecues and such that have taken place over the summer. Apparently my willpower is reduced significantly when presented with sausages in buns and cupcake on tap. Anyway, the other stone that I'm planning to lose before I reassess the situation again feels attainable. There's a weight that I have to get to for my height and that's what I'm aiming for but as I'm losing weight from the good places (boobs, seriously, I think I've gone down a cup size, which is incredibly irritating as new bras are expensive and, dammit, I have other places where I would prefer to lose weight from first, y'know?) I don't want to end up disproportionate. I'm quite disproportionate enough as it is, I've got kind of a tapered shape - broad shoulders and chest and then tiny hips. When I was getting fitted for my wedding dress, the ladies who measured me said that my chest and waist were a perfect size 18 but my hips were a size 14. Which is quite a significant difference. And another reason for not having babies - thems is not child-bearing hips. So yeah, I kind of have to see what shape I get to as I progress and whether I like it. The main reason I'm doing this is because of the extended clothing opportunities it provides (health? Like I care about health - pah!) so if I don't like how my final shape looks in clothes, I have to do something about it again.

And I finally watched Michael McIntyre last night, instead of learning lines which is what I should have been doing, I'm so naughty at the moment. Although Mrs DA would insist that that is what I should have been doing. He is very funny and I like him but actually do feel excluded by some of his humour in a weird sort of way. He does an extended bit about a Man Drawer, which is filled with useless things like ex-currency coins, batteries of uncertain life, keys from old houses, electrical leads with no obvious function and instruction manuals for things that you don't even own any more. All of which I have. Not in one place admittedly, but I know exactly where these things are in my flat. I'm also no stranger to lofts. I know it's silly but every time I hear humour about typical man things and typical woman things, I get a little riled. I can't help it. I think it's because all of that humour is based around specifics of other people but is presented as generalities so where I'd laugh at it as a specific tale of "this is my life" I get annoyed by it as "this is everyone's life". Because, in that scenario, I'm a boy. And I want to be a girl. Just a mildly unconventional one who likes the things that boys like and has her own collection of keys.