Catch up

This post is by way of a catch up on topics already mentioned:

I’m enjoying blogging. It’s still hard to say exactly why I’m doing it but just writing things down and sharing seems to clarify them. If I’m pontificating about dieting on a public forum, would I dare slip off this diet wagon? I don’t know that I could stand the shame.

The answer to the question of who is listening? some family, some friends and I could just talk to them! A couple of diet bloggers sometimes ‘like’ things which make me feel ‘proper’.

I see the world through a silly filter it seems and I think internetland could do with a voice advocating a lighthearted approach to dieting. I find I say some things because I know they’ll make my sister laugh. Sometimes I don’t realise a thing is funny until I read it back.

The time to blog comes directly out of my solitaire time and my scores are suffering.

I like my fat club, there hasn’t been any further mention of contentious salad dressings since day one and they are generally a jolly bunch.

My husbands shirt collars are still shrinking as I lose weight so a visit to Pinks or similar is coming up. Due to his work we often shop for his work clothes in very old, very posh men’s wear shops in London. I both love them and hate them. The shops, established hundreds of years ago have a beautiful living museum like quality. The staff are sometimes obnoxious which is a shame. Both my husband and I have regional accents, neither of us have felt the need to get rid of them as is quite often the case. The level of condescension that greets my husbands Liverpudlian tones is outrageous and it has the potential to make me very spikey.

If you don’t know me, I have a West Country accent and the voice of a twelve year old. Doesn’t show it text does it my lover?

Spot is still visiting WTF? He’s taking his time moving on. I’m ignoring him and hoping he gets the message.

I’m getting quite excited by keep fit leggings. I’m currently waiting for printed ones to arrive, they’ve got a pocket and this fills me with inexplicable joy and a sense of well being. The largely ignored problem of visible female genitalia in the gym is a real thing. I know I said that it doesn’t matter what you wear to the gym because no one is looking. I have to add to that sentence … except me. Girls, if you don’t wear knickers under your leggings, sweat accumulates around your lady parts and forms the outline for all to see, which could mean that just I see it, do me a favour ladies and put some pants on.

Last Friday I walked to and from the gym and did over an hour of cardio and light weights in there. A round of applause please. My hair doesn’t like the gym, it has mad potential without the extra trauma of being sweated into. I’m thinking of really pissing it off by going swimming after the gym session this week.