|Skimmed milk, small block of cheese|
made to look bigger by unconventionally small plate
Don't think I'm being all that virtuous. I'm only having this because the two Leos (continental-style KitKats) I had earlier in bed, with some sweet tea, didn't stop my cravings.
I wouldn't mind feeling hungry so much if the weight was flying off (An, may she never even have to consider giving up alcohol, loses three pounds if she just contemplates eating less) but my body is, as usual, taking its time. When I try hard, I can lose about two pounds a month, maybe three. That's excruciatingly slow. (And I swear I don't normally snack at night at all, ever. This is a one-off. I'm not that stupid.)
What I need, what I really really need, is a tummy bug. Last time I had a twenty-four hour spell of spectacular up- and downward explosions, I ended up four pounds lighter. I'm considering following Charlie's lead. He's always offering me his second hand biscuits from his grubby little paws. Maybe I should do more than just pretend to eat them. He also tastes everything he gets his hands on (animal, mineral or vegetable) and I'm sure if I just did the same I would be sick in no time. Just think of the things I handle in an average day. The poopy nappies! The cat vomit! The randomly poisonous detergents!
I'm thinking I could learn from Marie as well: on any toilet, public or otherwise, she plants both hands firmly on the toilet seat to hold herself up. If I don't watch her (and I admit I often don't), she will "forget" to wash her hands and soon after insert her thumb into her mouth. I'm amazed she hasn't contracted cholera or dysentery yet. (She considers it unnecessary to wash her hands if she hasn't wiped her own bottom. She will make sure I wash mine after wiping her bum, though. Because ewwww, right?)
So, if you see me going around licking grubby old mingers in the street, you'll know that I'm still trying to lose those last few pounds.