Day 4. Feeling hungover... bizarrely.

Day 4. I’m feeling a bit scheiße. Like I’m hungover, or my muscles are wasted or something. I hugely craved a banana for breakfast, but had to make do with a LL banana milkshake. When I felt like my arms couldn’t hold up my straighteners, I came down and ate a cranberry and raspberry bar. This leaves me with only two food portions for the rest of the day. Bummer. This malaise could be partly due to lack of sleep. We were out late last night, (well late for us, okay?) and I didn’t nod off until 1.30. Within about an hour, my little one started howling. He had a dirty nappy and a sore bottom. I took him with me into the big bed in his room. Poor mite wriggled and mooched all night. I have bags the size of rucksacks under my eyes.

Luckily for me, my daughter is in holiday club today and my son is in nursery. I am supposed to be working today, but the project has wound down until later this year, so I have my kids booked into childcare, and a couple of free days every week. The bliss! However, of course this means I am short of pocket, and much as I would love to distract myself with shopping, I dare not chance it. I am struggling to keep regular payments to my credit cards as it is. The reception on the TV is dreadful, and has been for weeks. I haven’t had the internet for over a week, which is really irritating. Not least because I am missing Big Brother and depend on 4 on demand to catch up on what is happening!

We went to the movies last night. The boy was starving having not had anything since lunch. Poor baby, Ha ha. So, we queued for about 20 minutes at the Ben and Jerry’s counter. A narrow lane with metres of floor to ceiling of all of my favourite pick ‘n ‘mix at either side. I won’t list them, but imagine all the faves from your childhood. Even the nasty ones looked appealing. And at the end of it, like an altar, the Ben and Jerry’s icecream counter, with supersized posters of icecream sundaes. It was an exquisite form of torture. But it was funny, and I felt rather smug about being able to withstand it. It was a bit galling to see a girl, as lithe as a whippet, fill a bag to the brim with this gunge and join the queue. Perhaps she doesn’t eat anything else all week. Or perhaps she does, but it doesn’t adhere to her body in lumps of fat. But hold on, that girl used to be me! Maybe she will have weight issues later on too?
We arrived home to our babysitter at about 12.30, and she was heading out to see a friend. [i]At half midnight![/i] I was vaguely shocked, as she is only 16. The boy laughed at me saying that I needed to cast my mind back to what we got up to at that age. But it just seems so far away compared to our own babies and those of our friends. We’ve known this girl since she was a tot. If in ten years time my own daughter wants to slip out to see a friend in the local park at 12.30, I suspect I will have grave misgivings about it. This comes from a person who at the same age used to shimmy down the drainpipes at all hours of the night, and skip school to visit an older boyfriend in the city. I am getting so old, not just in body, but in mind too. It’s like my body is old, and my mind has adjusted to get into sync with it. I think when I look at myself that my excess weight really ages me, and I hope that when I lose three stone I will look younger. Most of the people in the blurb and the magazines look much younger when they lose weight. Will I [i]feel[/i] younger too?