I must be. Because really, what's the point in being such a slave to the step machine, and at the mercy of my alarm clock, when I ruin it all by behaving like, let's face it, a candidate for Secret Binge Eaters Anonymous?
The past seven days have been disastrous food-wise. I won't go into the shameful details, suffice to say this is the weekend in numbers...
Friday: 900g away from this coming Friday's goal weight
Today: 2.6 kg away
That's because, among other things, there are six slices of toast, a cupcake, a pizza and a tartufo sitting in my tummy. And yes, that was just yesterday.
So, the plan (and only two days away from the first day of spring!) is to eat like an anorexic, carbophobe bird for the next four days while continuing to gym my ass off.
Can you say, damage control?
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