Not a bad weigh-in today. Almost getting to the stage where my portrait in selfies doesn't look like I'm wearing a latex mask on top of my actual face. It helps too that the carpet burn scabs on my forehead have fallen off. It's a desperate state of affairs where you feel you're getting skinnier even though you're probably still fatter than 90% of people on the planet. I just made that stat up but you get the point.
Key thing now is to keep disciplined, keep off the booze, and try not succumb to temptation. Oh, is that all?
My ancient great-grandmother was a very rich woman who never did a day's work in her life. Contemporary with Coco Chanel, she would have worn very similar outfits to those created by the fascist designer.
Which is why the sold out V&A exhibition left me cold. A truck load of dresses that looked like they'd been worn by incredibly old women. Like Chanel, my great grandmother was a racist. Went with the territory.
So all those rows of clumpy, shapeless and dreary Chanel suits from the 1950s just left me with an overriding impression of narrow-mindedness, prejudice and privilege. Ah the good old days.
She was always happy though.