I’ve lost the slimming world plot, I’m a diet terrorist refusing the even use capitals when writing their name.
It all started two weeks ago when I was ill, then hurt my back…since then I’ve made ginger cakes and scones with gay abandon. Our esteemed leader Jean has sent me a text which I recieved with fear in my heart. But the truth is, I’m feeling bad.
So I’ve stopped with the cake making and restocked the cupboards with all things legal and I’m hitting it hard Monday, any good dieter knows Saturday and Sunday’s don’t count.
No doubt Jean will be brimming with eager disappointment next week, keen for me to fill in one of her diaries. I
plan to fill these out on a Monday with an aspirational menu. It’s not so much to that I plan to cheat, it’s just the monotony of my weekly food intake will only serve to highlight just how much brown rice and egg based meals I really eat.
Instead I shall sprinkle such words as cous cous and quinoa across my weekly meals, punctuating with elaborate vegetable tagines and the odd slow roast something. Come on Jean, tear this one apart, I’ll think as she tries to decipher exactly how any syns it all involves.
The truth is my slimming world journey is still very much one of cat and mouse. Currently I’m stuck in my hole, next week I’m going all Jerry with plans to get back on track and maybe annoy Jean just a little along the way.