Item – I fell off the diet wagon with a rather louder clang than I anticipated. On Tuesday, the scales were grumpily informing me I’d GAINED 2 lbs. Cue massive crise des nerfs. They’d gone again by this morning, but that makes Week 2 of the Shrinkathon a bit effin’ pointless. No matter. On we soldier.
Item – Big work ‘Do’ tomorrow, though. With cake and booze and one small plate of crudités I shall have to monopolize as inconspicuously as possible. As for no booze, eh. Antibiotics? Tell them all I’m permanently (as opposed to cyclically) off my bonce on codeine and it dinna mix with white wine? Run away? Remember, the truth is not an option. I do not discuss diets with colleagues, people with functional gonads, or skinny little less-than-8-stone sociopaths who spend all day telling me how all these doughnuts in the staff-room are undermining their diet (their what?). So. Dramatic lying it is, then.
Item – I ovulated on Tuesday, you know, as you do (go Satsuma!). This means that when I go for my return visit to The Professor, and then the next day when I go to the gynaecology clinic to discuss the results of the scan I had back in March which showed I had adenomyosis (oh, only, what, FOUR months ago), I really will be off my bonce on codeine, also bent double, sweaty, blood-stained, and incoherent. Oh joy. I shall have to make H write everything down. Dictaphone maybe? (Oh, hey, I could muster a faint in the gynae clinic and, you know, MAKE MY POINT about ignoring people with debillitatingly painful conditions for FOUR MONTHS). And getting across town to the appointments will be… unpleasant. Oh dear.