Meat cooked on the spit is better than fried as it loses its fat.
Odd as it may seem I would like to start off this post with our Annual Village Dinner and someone taking a photo of me (in the rusty orange shirt) taking photos of someone else. The reason for this hardly edifying back view of my rear is not for my readers’ benefit but my own so that gazing upon it should inspire me to continue steadfast upon my two mile daily trot and drastically reducing slabs of lemon cake, chocolate, ice-cream, French fries and even pasta.
This rear view is for my benefit so I can remember what a sight others have to look upon!
It’s useless of me to remind myself there are people starving in the world while here I am stuffing myself with unnecessary fuel that I should well go without. But when one is hungry, one is hungry and all you want to do is eat, besides the minute I reduce my intake of proteins, vitamins and what have you, I render my body vulnerable to all kinds of diseases and infections- though I have to face it, some are clearly in excess. So I decided, I will eat regularly and by that I do intend to cut out the binges of chunks of bread and cheese I stuff myself after a session on Twitter at midnight!
Not sure which is getting most roasted: the meat or the cooks?
For the moment that is all I’m cutting out from my daily food intake, because when all considered, I don’t really eat that much... but one day I started noting all the things I was eating: chocolate biscuits after deleting bunches of email spam, crackers after a rude remark from someone on facebook, cake and cream after downloading the day’s photos.... and the list goes on- perhaps I am exaggerating a little but the point is that my two mile trot may have taken off 1 kilo the first week and another in the second week but now that all the watery part of the flab is eliminated, it will not take off a kilo in this my third week- and won’t I be disappointed Saturday, which is tomorrow when the scales will not have budget and if they have it would no doubt be in the wrong direction? No, not just disappointed but desperate- and to reach that of point of desperation is something I heartily want to avoid.
The Village Dining Hall- a disused warehouse.
Don’t tell me please to go to a proper dietician... If someone else imposes upon my sweet self to do something, every nerve in my body simply rebels and nothing is achieved excepts streams of blood, sweat and tears. Unless you have a food disorder, common sense is a good guide enough as to how to lose weight and how to gain it. All that is required is a bit of good will to implement such common sense (not justify to myself that replacing the midnight bread and cheese binges with potato crisps is common sense) and make it part of my life style for keeps... blogging about it also helps to reinforce one’s intentions because it gives you the sensation that YOU ARE NOT ALONE type of thing... I wonder?
Just wondering if I should take some of this stuff home for my dogs- I’m lumpy all over the place- really must wear a bra!
The Raffle begins while the cakes are passed around. This guy proudly shows what he has just won- an apron complete with dish cloth- much to his wife’s delight.
Meanwhile the kids have found better things to do outside.
I can assure you this is not an internal view of the maximum security jail of Alcatraz Prison in the 1930s.
I donated one of my paintings for the raffle- a lion with his tongue hanging out- which everyone obviously thinks is a joke... Sigh... and I thought I was quite an esteemed artist!
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