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I was rather disappointed to find that I'd eaten twice as much sodium as I should have done today, but hardly any fat, so perhaps I'll become amazingly slim after this one day of foregoing burgers in favour of rye bread. Or perhaps I'll shrivel up like a salted slug and vanish completely.
The lift has been fixed in our building, with the ominous consequence that I can avoid all those flights of stairs in the evening again, which would be a good thing if it wasn't the only exercise I've been getting since I came back from Canada (apart from twenty minutes sprawled on the floor attempting pilates on Tuesday, which has hardly become an ingrained routine).
Anyway, tomorrow I'm going to try to eat my own body weight in bananas and see what Calorie Count makes of that. Part of me is hoping that a robot voice will bellow out from my computer, admonishing me for being silly and telling me I should go back on the Guinness (low iron consumption) or the oranges (little in the way of vitamin C).
Last night we watched Scott Pilgrim Vs The World, which I would perhaps have enjoyed more at an earlier stage in my life. As it was, I was aghast that the eponymous hero didn't have moral backbone or a proper personality, and despite all the bells, whistles and 1980s computer game icons, this was a failing that could not be disguised.
Or perhaps I was just bitter because I was fatter than him. Cholesterol is a bitter pill to swallow.
If it was bitter, it would be less of a problem. Why is it that all those beautiful, sweet, sweet fatty foods are chockful of cholesterol, and things I don't enjoy eating, like iron pyrites or cement powder, are not?
To cheer myself up, I'm going to read a John Le Carre novel. That is never a good sign, eh?
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