Okay, I really have to stop it with the fruit bread and the ice cream. And the potato chips and the chocolate. I brought an obscene amount of clothes to Australia and now I can’t fit into most of them. My fat clothes are now on heavy rotation. Geezoos.

I did go running when I said I would. And I went running almost everyday since then, except for the days after I had a big night out. Which was on Wednesday, today, and tomorrow. And maybe Monday.

Doh!

I fucking hate running. But if I didn’t make some sort of effort, the scale at the Degan household would register more than 54.6 kilos. Which doesn’t sound like much, I know, but I suspect that the scale is faulty because I definitely look and feel much heavier than that.

Just the same, I have absolutely no clue what to wear to Pacha tonight. A potato sack and heels?

GAAAH!

And now, a song from The Smiths: