94

On August the 26th, this year, I went to the doctor's for a check-up. (You can read about the outcome, here. It's nothing to worry about; I'm just overweight!) As a result of the check-up I resolved to shrink my waist down to a circumference of 94 centimetres or fewer. And I did pretty well; by the middle of November I'd lost just over a stone and had my waist down to 96 centimetres. Pretty good going, huh?

But then Christmas came along and whilst I stuck to my resolve as far as exercise was concerned - something I'm pretty chuffed about, actually - the low-carb diet went out of the window and consequently the weight has not so much snuck back on as charged in on the back of a reindeer, holding a bag of mince pies aloft whilst swigging from a bottle of Baileys.

This evening we went to a friends' house for dinner. They are amazing cooks and their meals are always amazing and generous. For our part, we'd brought along a couple of bottles of wine in pre-emptive thanks. As we arrived, I noticed their house number: '94'.

It didn't spoil my evening one jot but it served as notice that once the new year arrives - or shortly thereafter due to opportunities for excess already arranged - I'm going to have to drop the carbs again. And yes, that includes getting back down to 28 units a week (or less!).