People that have lived with me in the past (oh, all...21 of you) will know that there is probably not a more carbohydrate-intensive diet plan in the whole world than the diet I developed through eating exactly what I want.
Pasta. Lots of pasta.
Italian food combined with the French habit of having bread with just about everything, including sandwiches.
But, in a not entirely subtle way my body has been telling me that maybe my new sedentary desk job isn't doing me a lot of good. It's been popping buttons off trousers (admittedly with drastically fraying button cotton beforehand) and, despite all my training for the Three Peaks, it's generally taking more effort to move around.
So, I have ditched my Mediterranean-style diet and reverted to a caveman-style one.
I'm doing the Atkins diet.
This is not going down well with my body, as it also outlaws the other love of my life, coffee.
Nevertheless, it's the only diet that I know of that lets you eat pretty much as much as you want, so I figure what the hell.
I'm on day two, and so far I've plundered Asda for lunch both days. Six pieces of chicken (drumsticks/thighs) yesterday and two legs today.
Last night I had beef grills and a couple of Pepperamis whilst knocking about the house doing laundry and editing some chapters (Oh God I've got a lot to do). Had bacon and eggs for breakfast this morning. I may shop for some 'permitted' vegetables this evening, but this all feels sooooooooo the wrong way to go about losing some weight. It makes sense, fair enough, but...still...
That's all I'm going to say, as I don't want to turn The Autoblography into a diet diary, but know that I am on it, and hence it might be me that you see stalking across the open spaces of your local park, brandishing a crude spear and flint knife, eyeing passing ducks with a carnivorous gleam in my eye.
Ug.
Ug indeed.
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