Need, need, NEED to get back to the iron will of a week or so ago, that says a steadfast, tight-lipped 'no' to every mouthful of shepherds pie, lemon cake and other little nibbles I think don't matter when in fact, here they are, stopping that elusive number from leaving 125 and getting into proper acceptable waters.
It's hard finding the resolution some days. Today I have stuck to liquids as I did yesterday, but the weekend was a fucking fiasco.
I fit into a size eight, but am too scared to go and buy anything in case I balls everything up and wake up suddenly clothed in the kilts and jodhpurs of fat that I wore for so long.
I even had a dream of myself last night at University; laughing with a huge fat tummy, surrounded by thin thin thin girls who didn't need to pretend they were happy.