She, once again, posts off the renewal cheque -
payment for her sub to Slimming World.
It occurs to her that this is her third time; by
definition, surely that's not right?
But they did say that no girl should expect
miracles to happen overnight.
Still, she firmly resolves that, if
it doesn't work this time,
and her weight continues to soar,
like a clubbing queen on E -
and should any more zips accidentally
dare to bust - then she will
immediately cancel all the mags,
and chuck out all the Morgan
one size (which means size six)
jeans, and thank her lucky
stars for Marks and Evans -
and try to forget that she used to
prefer Gap, Next, Top Shop,
River Island - in another life!
She is actually growing
somewhat sick
of attending Weight Watchers,
week after bloody week:
each victim weighing in,
like cattle anticipating slaughter.
That regular ritual of public humiliation
has finally taken its toll: so soul-destroying.
She feels that she may flip, at any time.
The other day, she did rip up her Kylie posters; it
helped a bit. Released the pent-up tension,
like some binge. She is fed-up with counting
"points" and wondering if skipping breakfast,
lunch and dinner for three successive days
again, might not entitle her to a Fun Size
Mars Bar.
Fun Size? King Size is more fun, any day!
Yes, this is most definitely to be her last year,
as a devotee of Slimming World.
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