I asked Denise if she minded if we had some 'crap' for dinner and that I either needed something like that or a glass of wine, or possibly both. Denise acquiesced to my request. (A man on the telly yesterday was very keen on the word 'acquiesce' and it seems determined to be used by me today so I shall acquiesce to its demands)
And then before I went out and bought a takeaway, we had crumpets with just a sliver of butter.
I had sweet and sour chicken with egg fried rice. Denise had a mushroom omelette which came with chips. Denise gave me half of her chips.
I ate it all. I also bought a bottle of wine while I was getting the takeaway. I was absolutely stuffed. I had a bit more wine and ate a bit of cheese. Bad habits! I haven't really got out of them, even after 8 months.
When I went to bed I felt full and had to lie on my back and, as a result, snored and had a bad night's sleep, including dreams where our neighbours tried to encourage Denise to do some tightrope walking on the telephone wires outside our window. They'd set up a little chair on it for her to sit down on. Denise did not want to do this.
And amongst all this was the fear that, having eaten and drunk a load last night, that I would have put on 6 stone and be just as heavy as I was.
I know that's ridiculous. But it is so much easier to put weight on than it is to get it off. Crazily easy in comparison. I honestly don't know how I'll manage when I lose the focus of my year-long sponsored diet.