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This is the moment you’ve barely given a second thought.  It’s time to see the graph.  But first, what does the graph show?  What does it tell us?  It’s tells us that I’m shit at dieting.  I’ve lost a rounded-up pound since last Friday.  By rounded-up pound I mean that the little ticket the Boots weight machine prints out says I’ve lost a pound, but a quick sense check (looking at the change in weight in kilos) shows I haven’t.  I’ve lost 0.3kg.  0.66lbs.  300g.  The equivalent weight of a packet of Chocolate Hob Nobs, ironically enough an entire packet of which I’ve eaten in the past two days.  I know what you’re thinking.  I’m a useless, disgusting, greedy bollocks.

The astute among you may notice two lines in the above chart.  The black line represents my weight.  The white line represents a straight line that — on the full graph, only a snippet of which I’ve included above — runs from my starting weight of 120.2kg to my target weight of 108kg on April 9th.  You may also note that the black line is higher than the white line.  This means I’m behind my target.  And I’ve no-one to blame but myself.  Well, I could arguably blame the girl next to me at work who, whilst cold on Wednesday, made the (bizarre, when you think about it) announcement that the only thing keeping her warm was eating biscuits.  I said, “I’ll go and buy some more biscuits at lunch then,” and returned later with four packets of biscuits.  Jam and Custard Jammy Dodgers (disappointing), Pink Wafers (retro), Chocolate and Hazelnut Cookies (indulgent), and the aforementioned Chocolate Hob Nobs (classic).  I then proceeded over the course of the remainder of this working week to eat about half of them.

What's the point putting a copyright watermark in a picture of some fucking pink wafers?

In my last blog I think I might have foolishly said I was going to come up with sort of routine.  I haven’t, unsurprisingly.  But I might do.  I probably won’t though.  Although I should, really.  I have some weights gathering dust on the bedroom floor (although technically they stop my guitar falling over; they’re not just gathering dust), so I should probably put them to use.  I’m going to try a short, gentle jog in the next week or so, and see how the knee holds up, so watch this space for another predictable blog about me shitting up my knee.  Every day this week I’ve been for a short(ish) walk at lunchtime, so fingers crossed the knee is getting a bit stronger.

So, not a lot of progress on the dieting front, but I’ll be good this week, I swear.  By next Friday I’ll make sure the black line is below the white line.  It make shock you to learn that I’ve done a bit more writing on the novel, and I think I’ve closed an annoying and problematic plot-hole.  I just need to get into a routine of writing an hour or so a day, I think.  325 days to go until my thirtieth birthday deadline.

I’ll sign off, for no real reason, with a picture of Gemma Atkinson.  

I could take her or leave her, me.

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