Hanging Out with Jazzy: Dieting in the Face of British Cuisine
villanous_mwaha, we've seen your Facebook pics, and we think you look adorable just the way you are! (Also, can you send us some Eton mess?) —Sparkitors
Recently, I’m sure many of you have been reading about Talie’s exciting boy diet. I’m afraid mine is of a somewhat more conventional nature. Mine is an actual, food-oriented diet. And it’s not going very well.
It started before Christmas, when my sister and I decided that flabby bellies were NOT what we wanted in life, and at first it went quite well!! I was going down 1 or 2 pounds in 2 or 3 days, and every time I looked in the mirror I couldn’t help but admire how much flatter my tummy was. It was an awesome feeling.
Then, Christmas came. I probably don’t need to say any more than that, but for the purpose of having something to write for you, I will. Knowing how impossible the holidays are, I resolved to leave my diet for the Christmas period and restart afterward. Little did I realize how much I’d been missing; long story short, I binged. Big time. Picture the scene: a lovely Christmas dinner cooked by my grandparents, gravy and mushroom wellington, potatoes, and Yorkshire puddings... how could I resist?!
I had a plateful… then another plateful… then a bowl of Eton mess… then a mince pie with brandy butter… then a slice of chocolate roulade… then I ran away from the table screaming before I consumed any more! It was quite plain that I had fallen into a pit of I’m-going-to-eat-loads, especially when I found myself wondering when I could go home and devour some of the chocolate Father Christmas had left me. And what made me feel even worse was that my sister had completely persevered through the day and refused to indulge. Our weight loss charts looked a little different by the end of the day:
As you can see, she did a lot better.
And as if things could not go more wrong for the world of dieting, Boxing Day came about! This day promised more food, more LOVELY food, cooked by my mother this time. And with all the meringue, and cheese, and piles of scrumptious EVERYTHINGS on the table, I relapsed again. And. I. LOVED IT.
Now, everyone’s allowed a treat at Christmastime. I considered those two days of gluttony as my treat, and resolved after that complete indulgence that I would go back to my diet, lose weight again and get my bum looking slightly less like it has it’s own gravitational field. I was determined on this point.
But then my friend Maddy came to stay...
Have any tips to help Jazzy refrain from overindulging?
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