The trouble with staying lean is that it is as boring as f*ck.
Nearly every day since May, I have been waking up to the audible hunger signals from my stomach, sitting in front of Blogger and coming up with ... zip. I didn't have any interesting after binge symptoms to tell you about (like when your eyes are so puffy you look like you've been crying for a week) nor could I tell you about my latest victory on the scale (because that 0.1kg loss is so absolutely riveting!).
So in the interests of resuming normal transmissions, I have unintentionally sat on my arse all week and accidentally stuffed pizza and corn chips down my throat nearly every night.
My brain has been totally absorbed in discovering how to be an online millionaire, and I have been writing like a madwoman instead of getting enough sleep. I am so absorbed in my harebrained scheme that I would rather keep plotting and planning than go to the gym. It appears that if you take your eye off the ball (would that be a Fit Ball?) for more than a few seconds, you end up in a wee bit of trouble.
So yes - I've fallen in a hole and I can't get up because at the moment I don't mind it down here. I am having a bit of a rest.
When you've been around the whole fat loss thing for as long as I have, you expect times like these at some point. It is a bit like a marriage. Sometimes you can't keep your hands off each other and at other times you wish you could push him in the harbour and live alone with your cat. It is just the cycle of relationships.
Enthusiasm comes and goes. Perfectionism is impossible. And most importantly -- it is just a bit of fat for f*ck's sake. It's fixable ... I'll get on to that ... just as soon as I finish writing this post.