My bingo-wing shame

I’ll admit my healthy eating plans as planned on Sunday haven’t gone anywhere.

I’m exhausted and hurting all over; and my meal planning has just gone to shit.

I just want to eat rubbish all the time.  And it’s a vicious circle.  I feel awful because I am just filling my body with crap.

The problem is when I’m feeling like this I just want to reach for the processed rubbish and just produce meals from the freezer, oven or out of a jar.

My freezer is full of meat and things I can construct meals out of, I just need to get with it and get on it.

I had an epiphany today.  I think that’s the right word, or maybe just a huge slap to my (fat) face.

I noticed yesterday at work my left arm seemed really wobbly when I walked.  Weird.

Today when I got out of the shower, I nearly died.  Complete mortification.

My arm is fat.  Proper fat.  Like a hanging roll fat.  It wobbles and is jelly-like and minging.

That has to go.  I can’t have a baggy fatty boom-boom arm.  What’s next?  A baggy-fat vajojo, is that a thing?

I popped into my local shop for some milk wine on my way home from work this evening and bumped into a friend of a friend, you know, that person you secretly hate and they quite clearly hate you too but you pretend that you are bezzies.  Makes me hate myself but we all do it(I hope).

She asked after my son, and all the usual niceties.  She then pointed at my belly.

“How exciting, baby number two is well on its way and cooking nicely I see”.

I died a little inside.  Made my excuses and scuttled away.

I have to try and get back on board with being healthier and looking after myself.  I know I can’t sew up the mouths of rude people but I can at least make myself feel a little better and try and tame my wobbly arm and non baby-bump.

I’m off to meal plan and swot up.  I can do this.  No more preggo belly and flabby bingo-wing.





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