Week 6

That’s the way to do it! 3lbs of fat gone this week.  This means (a drum roll please) that I have now lost a total of fourteen and a half a pound and have another shiny sticker for the front of my slimming world book and a one stone certificate on the fridge.  I am very pleased with myself.  Oh yes my chicka dees, very pleased indeed. If you can remember my bucket list, this now means I have earned my first bucket list award - a treatment at the Old Thorns Country Club! Hurrah!

So losing a stone, how do I feel?  In myself, of course, I feel brilliant.  Things are just becoming easier and clothes are definitely feeling a bit more comfortable.  Although, I did go to the pool today and had just a tiny wobble as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  I realise that I am still wearing that fat suit.  I think I can see a small change in my shape but I am still wearing that fat suit.  Funny isn’t it? In my head for some reason I think that I am slimmer than I actually am.  It was clearly all this denial that got me into trouble in the first place.  Today’s wake up call certainly saved me from rushing out and buying myself a new boob tube and hotpants set.  Probably best I leave it until I have lost just a few more pounds. 

Now, I really do not wish to dwell too much on last week’s kitchen spectacular but I would just like to say how impressed I am with our fabulous emergency services and the NHS in general.  I already have my physiotherapy appointment confirmed for tomorrow and have naturally put a request in for a topless Daniel Craig to perform the honours.  My only teeny, weenie, incey, wincey moan is to do with the plasters.  Over one week on and I am still trying to remove the sticky residue from various parts of my body.  It looks like I have got ringworm.  Honestly, I had to get Alan to pull the plasters off while I counted to three.  Each one removed at least one layer of skin and perfectly waxed the surface.  If only I had got the nurses to strategically place a few across my bikini line and I could have had a free Brazilian as part of the service.

Last Friday was Annie’s inset day and I took two of her friends along to see Breaking Wind (Dawn) part 2.  Trying, as ever, to be trendy cool mum and failing at every turn, I found that the car journey to Portsmouth was far more comfortable for all if I only spoke when I was spoken to in between their face book and texting.  When we arrived I left them to see their movie and mooched around the shops and then dutifully collected them for the journey home.  Two grunts for yes indicated in code to me that they wanted a McDonalds and so obliging, loving mummy takes them to Petersfield.  And then they spotted them, a bunch of helium balloons on the ceiling.  Three cool teenagers regressed back into likeable, loveable children as they finished their food; they each grabbed a balloon for the final part of the journey home.  Within the first couple of minutes, the first balloon was untied and helium was inhaled.  And that was that.  Laughter upon laughter as they took it in turns to speak like Pinkie and Perky.  We all went into melt down, it was absolutely hilarious.  And then it got me to thinking.....  If helium can provide the key to unlocking a teenager, just think what it could do for British Industry.  I think that we all should declare a National Helium Day.  I have looked everywhere and cannot find one listed.  National Helium day should mean that all public announcements be made under the influence of helium.  For example, at the post office ‘cashier number 6 please’ and Aircraft safety briefings on board, oh and definitely on board commuter trains and train platforms.  What a fantastic way for people to get talking.  I also think that any political speeches, on National Helium Day, in the House of Lords should also be done under the influence of helium.  I don't think that it would affect the believability of their policies in any way.

So back to my siblings: Annie and Jess got locked in a squash court this week.  No, I am not kidding.  They took themselves over the road to Bohunt squash courts to play.  Payment for the courts are in the form of a token which gives a 40 minute session, at the end of which, the lights go off and they are expected to leave the court.  Unfortunately the girls shut the door so hard that when the lights went off, they were in total darkness and could not open the door.  The first I knew about it was a couple of rings on my phone and then nothing.  I then saw that I had a text message that went like this “Mummy! Call me NOW!! We are locked in the court.  Call back! We will tell you the details!” Anyway, I walked over to the courts and rescued my children.  I asked Annie why she didn’t ring me and she said she didn’t want to waste her credit.  I swear to god she could be falling off a cliff and prefer not to make an emergency call in preference to talking to one of her friends. 

Anyway, whoever said that you should have children to look after you in old age was obviously of not sound mind.  I cannot even get mine to change a toilet roll. 

So here we go, another week begins.  Fourteen and one half pound of fat gone.  Fifty five and one half pound and counting. SX