What in the name of all that is holy was I thinking when I thought to do a transformation challenge over Christmas. This was torture and it just never ends. It was my birthday early in the week. Whoever thought a January party would be a good idea. You were born in January, you don’t get to have parties. Food, drink, tartlets galore, everywhere. Beer, wine, everywhere. What was I drinking? Gin. What was I eating? Anything I could find that had low, sugar, carbs, fats. No Greasy 4am chipper for me. It was probably the most civilized I have ever been on a night out.
Then came another party. Christmas is over. January is meant to quiet. Now it wasn’t the wild kind of party, it was a sweet sixteen. When did sixteen become a landmark birthday. I was lucky my parents remembered mine. I thought that this new years resolution thing was going to be easy considering I had practically started mine in December, there were so many challenges.
The first being the realisation that I had a 16 year old nephew. This hit me like a smack in the face with an umbrella during storm Desmond. How old am I? Another challenge was all the lovely food that was presented. I mean lovely because the potatoes were cooked in goose fat. There was a huge bowl of Yorkshire puds plonked on the table in front of me and it was clear from the shiny roast vegetables that they were cooked in honey and lashings of olive oil. I couldn’t believe how well I was doing. I said no to the beer, no to the wine. I did sneak a tiny roast potato but that was because I didn’t want to appear rude.
I’m not going to lie to you, I have been slacking off at the gym the last week. This is because of many reasons. The first being that I didn’t want to go. The second being also that I didn’t want to go and the third being I couldn’t be arsed going. Now I promise that I will return to the gym when I can muster up the time and motivation. I blame Karen, ever since she told me that I didn’t have to go, I have been finding it so easy not to! It actually turns out that the gym did in fact have no bearing on my weightloss as I was down 3.5 pounds. Point proven. No more gym for me, just kidding.
The following morning I was out doing a couple of last minute deliveries and when I entered the client’s buildings I might as well have been taking part in the Crystal Maze for all the dodging of chocolates and cakes and Christmas leftovers. It was like I had 50 Mrs Doyles saying “Go Wan, Go Wan, Go Wan, Go Wan, Go Wan” Every place was the same “Howaya Joy, would you like a sweet, cake, hot whiskey”? To which I responded the same each time. “Ah no you’re grand, I’m on a mad diet challenge thing”. The response to which was “Ah, Jesus, sure aren’t we all, would ya go on”. It was dreadful. I thought January would be easy. What is it with people trying to force feed a dieter. People, if someone politely tells you that they are on a diet, please do not try and force feed them, I beg of you.