Saturday Morning

I don't really have anything to say. But here I am back at my desk, late, very late on a saturday morning. And so it remains. The whole idea that one should have 'something to say' itself says a lot about the kind of world we live in - how cerebrally demanding it is.

I am under 100kg for the first time since 2006. I plan to get down to 90. I have not embodied such a stature since my early twenties. Obviously, I am supposing this may make me more attractive to the Daughters of Eve (or even Lilith?); but believe me, such vain fantasies are not the only consolation. With the same muscle bulk, carrying about 10kg less weight - which I've lost in the past two months - means something. Try it. Pick up a 10 kg bag, strap it to your shoudlders. Tell me laying it aside it means nothing.

And behold....suddenly I discover: once again I possess a jawline. And when I wake up in the morning, I have a rib cage, not just blubber upon my midriff.

The secret? I don't eat rice, noodles, potatoes or bread unless I have to. Dr Atkins etc. My exercise regime has not noticeably advanced at all, despite my tribal dance adventures in Thailand, nor do I drink any less beer than ever. I make no promises for the future but this circumstance feels nice. Should I post a photo if I reach 90kg?

People lose weight and they put it on again, blah blah. God, how the world is filled with blah blahs.