Diets – why do I never learn?

Good question.  You would think that I would have learned by now.  It’s not like I am in the first flush of youth.  It’s not like this is the first time in my life I have struggled with my weight.  It’s not like I don’t know that I get fatter just by lifting the phone to Domino’s.

So why is it that every time I lose a few pounds and start to feel my clothes that bit more comfy and can bear to just about peek at the scales in the morning – I then shoot myself in the foot?  (Not literally, I’m not that stupid!)  (And I don’t own a gun.)  (And, boy, would that be a sore one!)

I know about calorific intake.  I know about exercise levels (mine don’t exist, but I know they should).  I know about how “wee cups of tea”, “I’ll just have one”, “a wee biscuit with that?” all add up.

And yet I still do it.  After weeks of cup a soup for lunch, fruit for snack and careful portion control all the time (nearly), a few pounds finally slip away and I feel fab.  But then someone gives me a huge box of rather delicious chocolates as a gift.  Then I have to go to a few nights out and it would be rude not to get stuck in to the curry and have a glass or two.  Then I can’t be bothered to cook (just this once?) and order a takeaway.

It doesn’t show at first so I think I am getting away with it, which means I really can have another chocolate biscuit and maybe some ice-cream and why bother with a small bowl of pasta when it’s so tasty?

And then the day of reckoning comes. Today.  I had only lost about 3 1/2 pounds so where did these 5 pounds come from?  Bugger, bugger, bugger.