Gone a week, gone weak

Posted: December 15, 2010 in don't fight it
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Frightening actually that a few numbers can shatter the fingers causing them to curl into a paralysis of shame that tortures even the gnarled claws of this blogger.

The numbers arrived randomly, a bit like lucky dip lottery tickets – and they too have always been a disappointment.  The numbers ( I don’t feel man enough to address them formally) fluctuated repeatedly similar to the radio broadcasts from Voyager 1 as it reaches the outer limits of our galaxy which now seems equaly distant to my twelve pound goal.  AH YES… he is still struggling with that one.

For the past seven days the upward gravity blog has in itself suffered from an upward gravitational force.  Initially it was thought that this phenomena was linked to brie  – a very ripe, slightly warm, chase the flies away in the summer type temptation.  As it was no more than five or six slices it was eliminated from the equation.  Triscuits the darlings of brie and fashionably loaded with rock salt and smoked oysters stepped up to the palate… oops … I mean plate.  Once opened the oysters like brie have the most startling brevity of shelf life. If not done away with quickly they will fester to a sad state in a matter of hours.  Noble consumption- the only recourse.  Gallantly with thoughts only of their well being I stepped up to palliate the plate and my palate.  As I did the honorable deed I was struck by the incompleteness of my attempts. The oysters and brie would be fraut in my bowels without a suitable elixir to ferry their way to the numbers on the scales peering annoyingly up at me.  A well rounded few glasses of Merlot bounded forward eager to please.  As quickly as the Merlot bounded, the oysters and brie grounded and the love handles rounded!

The numbers went up.  I was devastated.  I was doing it out of concern for the brie, triscuits, oysters, (the Merlot… well that was merely obeying convention and good form).  As the numbers on the scales rose so too did the chasm of guilt swallow my intentions.

Thankfully the significant other reminded me of the twelve pounds of Christmas and what other manly pursuit I might lose access to if I did not get on track – it would be only MY hands grasping MY love handles.

Panicked the gym became my womb, sweat my second skin and spinach salad the second love of my life.  Tirelessly… no that’s not true… in a state of total exhaustion, the hours passed until 77 was broken.  Down 3.5 kilos in two weeks – 7.9lbs.  Back on track!  Ten days to go.  Just over 4 pounds.  I stare at the empty bottle of merlot, tears in my eyes.  She shall not grace my lips again until Christmas morning.  I feel almost chased… chaste.

The results The Twelve pounds of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas my true love took from me,

every thing that was Hershey

On the second day of Christmas my true love took from me

two vanilla shakes

On the third day of Christmas my true love took from me

three mars bars

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love took from me

four glasses merlot

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love took from me

Five snickers bars

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love took from me

six candied apples

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love took from me

seven slices cheesecake

On the eigth day of Christmas my true love took from me

eight pieces pizza



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