A Form Of Torture?

One of the worst things I ever did was apply for an Argos card (for those not in the UK, Argos is a catalogue shop who sell everything from jewellery to garden furniture, household stuff, toys etc etc etc). While it's a useful thing to have coming up to Christmas if I want to get lots of stuff, the interest rate is higher than I'd like it to be. Anyway, His Nibs is on a diet. About time too, in my opinion, he's put on loads of weight and he looks like he's about three years into pregnancy (pot calling the kettle black here??!) So, he decides he wants a pair of bathroom scales so he can see what his weight is doing.

Hhhmmm, thinks I, I was after a ladyshaver, so maybe I'll pay with my card and get one. A bit of research later, and I find the Philips Satinelle Ice, which is an epilator rather than a shaver. With £20 off the price in the sale it seems to be rather good value, so I've bitten the bullet and bought it. It has an ice pack thing that you put in the freezer beforehand, and it's supposed to NOT be painful to use. I'm a bit dubious, to be honest, as basically it's gonna be like using a pair of tweezers ... ouch! Anyway, I shall reserve judgement until the ice pack has finished freezing and I can try it out. On the plus side, having the hairs ripped out by the root (double ouch) means I'll have to be practising hair removal a bit less often than normal, which has gotta be a good thing. So, once I've had a go, I'll let you know just how torturous it really is!

Like a stupid cow, I let Colin persuade me to get on the scales. Bugger bugger bugger bugger! WHY did I do it! I hate being weighed, and I hate it even more when the scales read a lot more than I anticipated. Hate being like this! It's gone 5.00 pm here and I have had nothing today bar two cups of coffee (naughty girl, should have eaten something) ... and I am sorely tempted to try and get away with eating nothing at all today, but at the end of the day it's not going to make much difference to my weight, is it, so I guess I shall have to bite the bullet and try and get back on track next week. In the meantime, maybe I can find 10 minutes to get on the crosstrainer tomorrow and try and get in the habit of doing 10 minutes every day.

Just had a thought, though ... there was a suggestion that some of us from work are going to take up salsa dancing. There is a big salsa group here in Birmingham that do classes every day at different locations around the city, and I'm going to insist on organising everyone to go when I get back to work next week. Now THAT will be great exercise (the dancing, not the organising!)

Signing off now, Mrs Depressed Fat Bitch!