Friday, 2 March 2012

Le weekend

Or as it is more commonly known in Dietville "Oh balls, the weekend."

It's pretty easy to stay on track during the working week, particularly if you work Monday to Friday as Mr Bee does, and I did (motherhood has brought part time hours). You get up, go to work, come home, eat the healthy, diet friendly dinner lovingly prepared by your wife. Not quite so in my case obviously but the gist is the same. Healthy, SW friendly dinners, little or no alcohol or treats, no puddings (other than a Muller Light yoghurt - free- or maybe a packet of mini hobnobs - 6 syns) and Bob's your Aunty Jane... It's all going swimmingly.

Until Friday. Back when I worked full time Friday's were a challenging day in Dietville. A fat roll (greasy sausage or bacon roll from the van, for the uninitiated)? Lunch brought in from a local takeaway? Nandos? Frankie and Benny's? Chinese? Tasties from a local deli? No thanks I'll just have my salad/baked potato/soup. To resist temptation you've got to a) be super strong b) be right in the zone c) eat lunch elsewhere or d) really love love love what you brought with you. It's really bloody hard to say no sometimes, particularly if you're not feeling particularly virtuous anyway.

Mr Bee and I have decided that since we are in this for the long haul with many multiples of stones to lose between us (with me carrying the bulk of it) that you have to live to stay sane. I'm not going to pick carefully on the rare occasions I get to eat out, nor am I going to limit myself to a solitary gin on a Saturday night. I am going to be careful though. Gone are the days of rich synful Friday and Saturday night dinners, luxurious with cream and oil, bread and olives, followed by locally produced Italian ice cream or large chunks of homemade cheesecake. You have to make choices in this life, and as long as I can provide us with good, wholesome, filling, enjoyable meals I'll take the wine/beer/cocktails over the olives and butter, thanks.

Which is why we are sat here having a Hoegaarden or 2, having had a syn free tagliatelle and meatballs and a positively angelic day.

I can cook really good food. I can't brew beer.



  1. Haha! Love it, and ditto. Nothing says delight like a wee beer! My dad is currently brewing his annual kegful. Not sure how many bottles he will bestow upon us, but I'll try and get a couple to you.

    You'll only need one to get the party started ;-)