Right, that’s the third turkey dealt with and only 360 days to the next one.
We had a fabulous roast turkey and all the trimmings at a friend’s house on Christmas Day, another delicious one at my niece’s on Boxing Day… and I was told Christmas wasn’t Christmas if we didn’t have one at home as well, even if only for ourselves. So a 13 pounder made its appearance and I spent all day yesterday preparing both it and the 101 vegetables to accompany it. A shaky moment was overcome when it was discovered that the reason it’s breast looked like a size zero model with her cheeks sucked in was because I had started to baste it upside down. Once I had it right side up all was satisfactory, to John’s infinite relief.
On each of these three occasions the lapband stopped me from outright bingeing, and I consumed less than half the quantity I used to have. However I’m not kidding myself because that was still way too much, and though I’ll never even say the words “New Year Resolution” out loud because I invariably fail at this sort of promise, clearly I need to have a “cunning plan” of some kind, the first brave step of which will be to climb on the scales.
But just for now, let me look back briefly at the road travelled so far, and thank all the bloggers – bandits or not – who have left me with kind and encouraging comments. They sooo make a difference, if for no other reason than that they coax me to stay out there in blogland, talking about it, instead of skulking silently, enviously reading other blogs and not trying to talk through the stumbling block.
If you’re reading this and you haven’t lost weight in a while – or blogged – i.e. a ‘skulker’, please let me offer a crumb of comfort. While you’re still reading bandit blogs it means you still care, and you still want to do something about it. Take the next step – write about it in your blog, don’t assume the world only loves a winner, and it’s just you that seems to find them irritating. They’re irritating for only one reason: they’re ahead of you. The successful bandits I read are all lovely people – it’s just that we don’t/can’t share their inner happiness; if they knew how we felt, they would be just as sympathetic as we are to each other. If you don’t communicate your sense of failure, how can anyone help?
So why don’t we resolve this new year to keep our blogs updated, even if not about weight loss issues, and not make lack of weight loss an excuse for going silent?
A new year’s hug to each and every person who reads this blog, even if they accessed it at random!
This is a poem of John’s which he wrote for a newspaper competition themed “On breaking new year resolutions” – but didn’t win. I kept it on my notice board at the office till it was faded and yellow. I’m happy to report he did eventually give up smoking 60 a day some 9 years later and hasn’t smoked at all since.
On Breaking New Year Resolutions
By J D Humphreys
Writing Competition, The Independent..
Prizes: Umbrian oil or magnum of champagne
New Year’s Day: Heard the news?
No more fags, no more booze.
Jan the 5th: Dear God! The thirst!
People say I’m past the worst.
Come the 10th – nearly raving;
Curse tobacco and the craving.
Now the 15th’s come and gone;
Desperate – somehow hanging on.
18th. Screaming for a drag;
Why the Hell do people nag?
Stuff the goddam resolution!
Here’s the sensible solution:
Can’t fight on two different fronts –
Keep off booze; light fag at once!
19th: coughing fit to bust;
Tongue like leather; dry as dust.
22nd: Still on edge.
(God help those who sign the pledge!)
Seek relief from this Perdition:
Try this crazy competition…
Should I win with all this toil
Don’t bother with the Umbrian oil:
Lubricate some lout in Dagenham –
Be a sport – send me a magnum!
Photo Finish -
from Lonicera's archive
Odds and ends
Around my home
Seen from back garden (picture by Shane)
Banjo: You can leave my tea on the table thank you.
Rusty: Don't distract me, I've got to catch it as it comes out.
Patagonia grassland, east coast
Patagonia: Sierra Colorada, with a railwayman's home as
built by the British in the early 20th century.
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