Wednesday, 4 July 2007

Why cutting out sweets doesn't always work

July traditionally is the month for summer bloom. Bloom in every sense of the word, from the carefully manicured gardens in Regents Park to the propped and preened women strolling down Oxford Street, keen to show off flat washboard stomachs and a near size zero figure. My aspirations are not quite size zero. A comfortable size 10, and even better a figure 8, top and bottom would be perfect. Still, I'm feeling the stress and strain of it all. Oh it used to be so easy I lament. News is, I've been outstandingly good when it comes to food recently. I've taken to munching on almonds in between meals. Even when delicious, sumptious cakes from Carluccios are paraded around the office because it's someone's birthday, I can safely say I throw all cares about eating anything sweet out of the window. Don't crave it, don't want to eat it. In fact, I've returned to a former loathing, which I myself can only confess to. I hate eating anything sweet that will automatically, in my case, pile on the pounds. I know, it's all mind over matter. I feel that way about anything sweet so my self-perception is thwarted. Still, I am congratulating myself that I am safely on an even keel. Drinking hot lemon water, hardly any artifical sugar in my diet at all. I've never been one for fizzy drinks loaded with e-numbers so that's not an issue for me either. Pity that I can't see it on my waistline quite yet. Secretly, I'm glad that July is lousy. I can cover up for a little bit longer.

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