I'm actually so tired I'm practically drooling on my laptop. Not sure this will make for a great post as I'd like to touch upon my weeks worth of news with some sense of coherence...
I'm already disturbed by two words I've just written - drooling and coherence. To rehash my weekend will certainly lead to further use of such words (insert "in" before coherence) and the disturbing fact that I have yet to wear my new blue dress out and come home with it not covered in puke. Shameful Cathy, truly shameful. Without going into too much detail, I can confirm that I love an auld hen. Seriously good times. The only problem arises when one realises that what had been threatening for a long long time finally hit. And hit with a vengeance. A full blown, toilet bowl hugging, bile retching, night long case of alcohol poisoning. God I thought I was actually going to die. At one particularly dark moment, when I thought I would never stop hurling, I genuinely contemplated calling an ambulance on myself. However, remembering my tendency towards the dramatic and knowing that there really wasn't much they could do to stem the bile tide I settled for hugging the toilet bowl some more and praying for an end, which thankfully eventually came. Now I'm simply left with the dilemma of whether or not the lessons learned preclude me from drinking this weekend or not. Surely a couple of coronas or a few glasses of red can't hurt?
On the upside, after the night spent emptying the contents of my stomach, I felt decidedly slim, a sensation I have not enjoyed since prior to my sojourn Spain. I'm still trying to get back into some sort of exercise/food routine. There seems to be an issue here however. The thing about exercise is this: It lulls you into a false sense of food security. So after a bit of a run and 20 minutes with Jillian Michaels it suddenly seems perfectly acceptable to eat the entire contents of one's fridge, reasoning that it's already been pre-exercised off the hips or belly or wherever it chooses to sit. I must constantly remind myself that this is not the case and reign myself in. Fatbook (My Fitness Pal) is supposed to help with this. And to a point it does. But then there's all the cake baking...
It's charity time in our house. Annual alzheimers cake sale/coffee morning is upon us and there is a finely tuned operation at work in the kitchen. Mum's got a crumble conveyor on the go and I'm getting busy with a banana bread, with which I plan to extort some cash out of my college peeps. I just pray it's up to scratch. I get very nervous when I bake for others, even though I know I'm perfectly well capable of throwing a few bananas and walnuts together. At least it seems to be rising so that's always a good start. Must now ensure that all this baking does not lead to a similar amount of eating. That would not be good at all.
Fingers crossed and Bon Appetit! Julia Child eat your heart out!
No comments:
Post a Comment