Diet rage

I have the diet version of hangry, you know, hungry angry. I’m diet angry, dengry? Angriet? I’ve lost another 1 lb, 10.5 total, but I’m very irritated, dierated? I want mashed potatoes, lots of them, lots of sausages and a huge pond of onion gravy and sod the points, but no, I’m going to the gym.

I spent the entirety of my journey home from work thinking up new swear words and insults.

I went for a ‘treatment’ last Friday, I thought it was going to be acupuncture but the practitioner uses a mixture of Chinese and alternative therapies. I’m always game for a new therapy. So the therapist says I’m hanging onto anger and sadness specifically in my lungs…..and my arse and flabby underarms I daresay (predictive text wanted me to say flabby underwear, not underarms, that’s brightened me up a bit) There are many who would argue that I don’t hang on to my anger but the sadness is likely true. On Saturday, I both looked like and felt like I’d been hit by a truck, I probably should have mentioned that I bruise easily. I wonder if my present discombobulation is related to the battering and this will be followed by a more lovely, tranquil me?

In the meantime please feel free to use the following hybrid insults/swear words as and when it seems appropriate;

Twucker, twank, frunck, buntard, frunckmangle, twunker, guntard, twarse, tuncker, buntarse, I could go on but I’d best get into my gym kit.