Since September, my attempts at losing weight have, if I am honest (and where else should I be but here on my blog) been half arsed. As excuses go, having to come to terms with a new job, moving to a new city and finding myself sans husband and companion of eight years in a single foul swoop, is a pretty good one but excuses are only ever that – never reasons.
I have found it hard to look after myself properly. My eating habits have become erratic. My cooking mojo has wandered off. Whereas when we were two,homecooked meals were served every night as a matter of course, now they are a rarity. I wonder what instinct it is that makes it so easy to care and nurture others but not oneself?
But. Enough already. The coming of the new year is a good opportunity for me to pick myself up, shake the dust of this last twelve months from my shoes and start again. And ok, it might be starting again for the eleventy billionth time. It doesn’t matter how many times you have to restart – eventually, one of them will culminate in a big band finish.
This January I am going to try and be very kind to myself. Lots of quiet evenings, early nights, simple food, gentle swims. I may even book myself in for a couple of much needed beauty treatments. I am going to remind myself that even in the singular, I deserve to be treated well.