Don’t Whinge If You’re Gonna Binge

Why is it still so easy to drink alcohol?

I wish it was more of a chore but it’s just as easy as it ever was.

Why can’t I drink water like I can drink Wine?

And Beer.

And Prosecco.

And anything else wet.

As healthy as I can be all day, week, month.. the minute someone asks me if I want a drink. Bitch be like…

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I’m hungover in work today and its days like this that make me feel like this operation never existed.

I’m binge eating.

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I’ve eaten every single piece of food for the day that I brought to work with me.

In fairness, thanks to my unprepared hungover brain I didn’t actually bring any legit pre prepped goodness with me. I fear my little food haul is somewhat lacklustre

I asses my food pile to see what damage I’ve just done to myself and I’m alarmed to see that even in this fragile state things are somewhat very positive.

Has my brain finally engaged and processed that to binge on hangover food it doesn’t always mean that the chosen binge food has to be total fat head horse shit?

Here’s the damage.

100g of Bernard Mathews Turkey Meat – 119 Calories & 20.7g of Protein

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25g of Skinny Popcorn – 114 Calories & 8.6g Protein 

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Half, so (30g) of CarbKilla Protein bar –  107 Calories & 12g Protein 

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I mean come on, things could be so much fucking worse. I even chose to walk 30 minutes around Notting Hill for the fucking pleasure of it before getting into work 1.5 hours EARLY.

Of course it helps that I can now leave work early but it’s also because i’m pretty sure i’m bloody Spartacus.

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I now feel pretty pleased with myself. I bought these items without a second thought, the internal turmoil of SAUSAGE BUTTY WITH LURPACK ON ACE BREAD WITH LOADS OF BROWN SAUCE vs Fruit.

Okay fine so I didn’t buy any fucking fruit BUT I didn’t buy the Sausage Butty either did I? NO. Lilli 1 – Life 0

I purchased Low Cal, High Protein snacks that was through my very own pudgey little fat brain’s choice. YAS.

On a low note I now have no food left as I gave the other half of my Protein Bar to Ginger Joe in the office and now I feel so sad like only Chunk from the Goonies could possibly understand.

Oh Chunk.

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As Shania Once Said. ‘Man, I feel Like A Fuckin Fat CheeseBurger’ Da Da Dadada Da!

I spoke too soon. Double chin dilemma is the devil.

Why do I feel like my belly is getting smaller yet my face is getting fatter?

1 of 2 things has happened to me.

1 – The utopia of seeing my double chin disappear has now subsided leaving me back to square one with what’s medically known as ‘Fat Eyes’.

eys

Fat Eye is a common ailment found in 1 in every 1 person. You look at yourself in the mirror and your brain box defaults to the Negative Nancy that lives within you. Negative Nancy whispers to you ‘So what if you have lost over 4 stone, your face is getting fatter by the minute’

chin

Nancy is a cunt. Nancy fuels the Fat Eye.

2 – My face is actually getting fatter.

Is this possible? Has my body found new ways to disperse calories?

MINDBOX – ‘Don’t send those calories to her belly you fool, she’s on a diet. Throw it on her face, she has room for a few lbs’

It’s probably no coincidence I’m feeling like a Pig in blanket, it’s my first vagina blood bath since the operation. WELCOME SWEET AGONY.

pig

I’m craving sugar. I’m craving a bit of Chocolate, Caramel and or Gnocchi. Okay, that’s not quite a sugar fix but I fuckin love roasted Gnocchi with Parmesan.

Drooling-Face

I’ve tried to scratch the itch with alternatives. SEE BELOW FOR BULLSHIT RESULTS OF BULLSHIT ALTERNATIVES.

SUGAR Snap Peas – BULLSHIT

SWEETcorn – BULLSHIT

BUTTERnut Squash – BULLSHIT.

What others foods lure you in to a false sense of security? Cock Coup? Fish Assholes? (That potentially is legit assholes) Different Kettle of fish but you get my point.

fish

1 final theory to explain Today’s potential body dysmorphic meltdown.

If it’s not my period making me swell like a tampon in bowl of hell blood, if it’s not calories collecting in my chin(s) the only other explanation is the reverse Beetlejuice syndrome. Viable?

beetlejuice

I’m holding off on my weekly weigh in until Aunt Flo has packed her bags and fucked right off for another month or so. By then this bloated, constipated belly of hormonal hell might have subsided and reward me another lb or so off my weight loss. Tactics man. Tactics.

Wish me luck.