For the first time in 3 years, the Mr & I are going away for the weekend. Since the hounds arrived in our life, no more spur of the moment off to a beach get-a-way type weekends for us. Now getting away involves the booking of plane tickets for the dogminder, booking of cottages and planning of meals.
Of course, since we are headed here, it's raining.
When I went back to the states in April (for my daughter's wedding & a whirlwind tour of the US) I got on the bathroom scales.
Sweet jesus I whispered (because the grandkids repeat everything you say) - appalled at how much I weighed. I then promptly went on to eat my way through the US. Then I came back to AU, got dooced and went back to the US for 5 more weeks of extended eating and managed to pack on a few more kilos.
In July I started a new job, in August I started Weight Watchers. I've reached the age where I can no longer starve myself for a few weeks and drop 10 kilos. I have also reached the point in my life where I can afford to buy the "good" butter, but my ever expanding waistline doesn't allow me to indulge as I have in the past.
The husband and I have developed a pattern over the last few weeks. I plan out the menus for the week, he does the grocery shopping. I cook, he helps me clean up. Just starting on to week 3 of the plan and I have managed to drop almost 2 kilos. We spend more money on groceries (lots of fresh veg and fruit - the economists that spout "buy in season" haven't been grocery shopping for a while, it's all bloody expensive). The husband is on the plan by default. We both feel better, but jesus tapdancing christ, it's a rough slog.