So this weekend, the diet went well and truly out the window. When I say diet, it’s not a hardcore one, I’m not just eating carrots and sipping on wheatgrass to curb my hunger pangs, I’m just simply trying not to scoff my face with cakes, chocolate, cheese and biscuits which are thrust in my face at work on a day-to-day basis. I’ve also starting going to a step class to help shift a few pounds in operation lose-weight-before-my-boyfriend’s-mum’s-wedding.
Friday night, I was elated at finishing another week at work so to celebrate I headed off to the pub and treated myself to a glass of rose and a big juice burger and chips.
Saturday I was Brighton bound, ready for a weekend of gossiping, babies and money spending. My afternoon was spent with Becky and adorable little Freddie, who even though he had a projectile vomiting episode, is still as gorgeous as ever and gave me lots of cuddles.
That evening, we graced Suzi’s house where a Chinese takeaway was on the cards and £46 later, we had decided on a variety of oriental dishes to tickle the tastebuds. Spring rolls, duck pancakes, chicken chow mein and shredded beef, you name it, we had it. I crawled into Emily’s bed around 12.30am, bloated and satisfied.
The next morning I was rudely awoken by Emily informing me in a fluster that pop legend Whitney Houston had died. The news snapped me back to reality and we frantically searched the tv channels for the full story. We played tribute to our childhood idol by blasting out Whitney’s greatest hits in the car, belting out her tunes at the top of our lungs and serenading the public with our soulful voices.
We headed off into town, where much to Emily’s dismayed we shopped till we dropped and eventually after a four-hour slog found somewhere to have lunch. We opted for a light bite at Cafe Coho in the Brighton Lanes, where I chose a bacon, brie and cranberry Panini to add to the weekend’s calorie count.
Diet starts again tomorrow, promise.