Hide all evidence

This morning I had my weekly weigh in with the personal trainer, it didn’t go so well. Look, it didn’t go badly, the newest plot on my kilograms lost graph is still heading in the right direction but not as fast as my trainer, let’s call him Sgt. Burpee, would like to see it.

This may be due to the fact a couple of foods and in particular, beverages consumed always seem to not appear in my food diary. The problem here is, I love food. Everything about it – particularly cheese and chilli – combined, if possible. And when my trainer asks me why I eat these things instead of suffering (that’s not the term he uses) for a few weeks, to achieve the weight loss I would really like, I have no answer for him. I feel like one of the contestants on The Biggest Loser looking very guilty after having a late night binge and having the nations tsk tsking me from their couches while they shove chips and ice-cream into their gobs.

I’ve been told if i haven’t lost 1kg by this time next week, there’ll be no resting between sets and extra burpees. I cringe at the thought… but that doesn’t mean I can be a little bit lax, just for the weekend..? You won’t tell, will you?!

Anyway, that wasn’t the point of this post, though the hiding evidence does conveniently fit with my food diary fiasco…

We have our house inspection today; the first time since we moved in 18 months ago. Sr. Bachata only informed me last week that we hadn’t made the landlord aware of Flitty or Fatty so we’ve had to hatch a plan to rid the house of any animalic evidence. Cleverly, we’ve booked Flitty in for a vaccination during the house inspection time (I’m sure she’s going to love that) and Fatty is hiding out in the outdoor laundry. All feline related items will be stowed away in a box the printer sits on and most random things kicked under a bed, the way all champions do it.

Will report back tomorrow to let you know if disaster struck or we got away with it.


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