They say the hardest step to take is the first one. But whoever 'they' are, (and I bet they're self-righteously skinny) they're talking bollocks. It's easy to make the first step - it's the several hundred afterwards that are the hard bit, starting with step two.
Or day two in my case. Day two you feel a sense of a new beginning, but are still wrapped in the same layer of lard you started with the day before. There's absolutely nothing to show progress, and you really fancy a drink or a bowl of noodles.
So maybe a moment of self-pity dosed up with some self-loathing can fill the time.
I'm starting to fantasise what it will be like to be skinny and beautiful again. Me with my shirt off on the beach. Amazing. Me allowing photographs below my neck. Incredible.
And then I catch sight of the blob in the mirror as I walk past the bathroom door and the fantasy disappears like my self-respect.
At night when I'm lying on my back I start to notice how high the duvet is covering my stomach and feel ashamed. I start wondering how is it that I didn't feel this sense of shame much earlier in the fat accumulation process?
Then I fall asleep dreaming of an enormous bowl of tamarind noodles - and that makes me happy.
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