Am I the only one who derives just a little weight loss pleasure in a bout of ill-health?  Oh, the glorious feeling of really not being hungry.  Oh, the sanctimonious refusal of a chocolate biscuit ( a rare event for me).  Oh, the rush to get on the scales in the morning to see if that 24 hours of not eating quite so much has had any effect.

I am not a prospective eating disorder – honestly.  And it’s not due to any high and mighty values either.  I am just too much of a baby when it comes to being sick.  Confession time: I have seriously considered calling an ambulance during previous stomach bugs.  I didn’t, but that was mostly because when I was not otherwise engaged talking to God on the big white telephone, I was too busy lying on the floor moaning to feel physically able to get to the phone. I could not imagine forcing myself to go through that torture on a regular basis.

Anyway, I was going to audit my eating but have been too busy with my hypochondria (it’s ok, it’s not life-threatening) to give it much attention.  In all honesty, a food record this week would probably make me look like some sort of nutritional saint.  Of course, today when I felt a little better, the first thing I did was celebrate with some tortilla chips – which might balance the books somewhat!

It will be interesting to see if the couple of pounds which disappeared this week stay off – or will all my suffering be in vain?