When you reach a certain age (in my case 66) it can become a continual battle to cram yourself into clothes you bought five years ago. Realising that I was becoming large enough to merit my own post-code, I started a strict 1000 calories a day diet just under a month ago. Now I'm a vegetarian (have been for 25 years) don't eat any dairy (apart from very occasional cheese when I'm dining out) and, being aware of the dreaded type2, never eat anything with sugar in if I can help it (so no ice cream, cake, sweets, biscuits etc) Accordingly, it would be naïve to pretend that the source of the extra inches isn't to be found in green bottles imported from France and my love affair with sliced bread! Accordingly, I've enjoyed hardly any wine for a month - just two celebratory evenings with good friends Peter and Sue - and restricted myself to two slices of Hovis a day.
I'm feeling quite smug this morning: I stepped on the scales to find I'd lost a stone! A whole stone! I'm determined to carry on until Christmas and lose at least another. So! If we meet anywhere, please - nil by mouth!