I had plans for a sumptuous breakfast in a cafe in the lower Blue Mountains this morning, but the day was quite gloomy and my plans were dashed.
Having just jumped on the scales for my weekly weigh-in, I'm so depressed I wanna just eat everything the fridge, and then go polish off some Krispy Kreme donuts.
Admittedly, it's been too rainy to get much walking in this week, although I've certainly been out there in it. The only way I'm feeling a little more positive about the situation is that, this time last year, I'd avoided the scales altogether, because I knew I'd managed to reverse a whole previous year's worth of dieting in just a few months of post-Christmas mystery.
As I've said before, I don't feel like I'm over-eating, or having too many treats, and I do an incredible amount of brisk walking. I do not want to have to go to a gym, and my body seems to be saying it likes being the size it is. It's been about eighteen months of quite resisted meal choices now - I still get so envious on a Thursday night when I pass all those glassed-walled CBD restaurants and cafes with my banana skim milk smoothie, and see people seemingly eating a normal meal. Or when I go to a movie and I'm the only person not nursing a huge bucket of hot, buttered popcorn.
Sunday's not so magic number: 95.6 - Sob.