Monday, 27 May 2013
I'm back! Sorry for the radio silence, but I've been bed-ridden for the past week fighting a really horrible illness that has left me feeling absolutely shattered. Due to excessive nausea (and other such icky related symptoms) I've hardly eaten anything for the past 7 days except for excessive amounts of yoghurt and fruit juice. On day 4, I was feeling particularly sad and sorry for myself and so the optimist (or sadist) in me thought that I should weigh myself to make myself feel better. Now just to clarify, jumping on the scale is not something that I usually do when I need a pick-me-up (far from it), but I figured that the lack of eating that I'd been doing for the past few days must've resulted in some weight loss. So I drag myself out of bed, pull off my pjs, jump on the scale, and look down ... only to discover that over the past 4 days of hell I've PUT ON 1 kg. At which point I yanked back on my jim jams - after muttering some choice curse words that would make even the butchest of sailors blush - shoved the demon scale back in my cupboard and crawled back into bed. Talk about a cheering up FAIL.
After some cursory bitching and moaning, this once again reminded me that, no matter how skinny those famous models and actresses are, being healthy does not necessarily mean being skinny. I would far rather feel as though I can make it through the day without passing out than fit into a size 6. Sure, it sucks when you cut down on your meals and still put on weight (I blame the demon scale) but at the end of the day I know that I'm a far happier person when I have a full tummy. Preferably filled with prawns. And garlic butter. Just saying.