Las night we went away to a very pleasant hotel for John's birthday treat, and this morning I did it again. I succumbed to the full English breakfast.
Why, why, why do I do this? I know that it will make me feel full and lethargic for the rest of the day; I know it will probably put me off food for a week; I don't even really like it. Part of me would much rather have a boiled egg or the nice smoked haddock. But the main, greedy, stupid part wants that fry-up; knows that when it sees John's (he always has it) it will be jealous.
And then we compounded the problem by meeting a friend for lunch. And he insisted on taking us somewhere nice because of the birthday. Just four hours after the breakfast.
And after my rant about overweight kids, too.
I feel very ashamed.
