Dieting Is Shite And I’m Not Doing It Any More And It Doesn’t Work Anyway

 

I haven’t been on the laptop to do today’s post until now because after my breakfast I COULDN’T FUCKING MOVE because of all the food I had to eat. And I COULDN’T FUCKING MOVE last night either to do the comments – that’s two nights in a row I haven’t answered comments because of THESE STUPID FUCKING DIETS. And I’ve put on FOUR POUNDS in a day and a half. And I can’t afford all the food for the twelve diets I was on – THEY’RE A FUCKING RIP-OFF – so I’m going back to eating what I normally eat, I’ll just cut it in half. But not today, today I’m not eating ANYTHING ELSE.

 

 

I Did It! I Survived The Night And I’m Still On My Eight Diets!

 

I got to sleep with a double-double dose of laudanum and a few glasses of absinthe and a handful of beta-blockers that I pretended were red Smarties. I was still starving when I woke up this morning but I had a good breakfast of –

MEAT (the Atkins Diet)

PORRIDGE (the calorie-counting Diet) 

a BERRY (the Paleo Diet. Did cavemen eat Strawberry Cornettos?)

a SLIM-FAST CHOCOLATE MILKSHAKE (the Slim-Fast Diet)

some MUESLI (the Boring Fuckers Healthy Eating Diet)

some SPECIAL K (the Special K 2 weeks Diet)

and my CUMBERLAND SAUSAGE SANDWICHES (Dotty’s Fucking Fat Arse Diet). 

I was still a bit peckish so I sneaked in an item from the allowed foods on the Toast Diet list and I made a bit of toast (the Toast Diet).

 

It’s SO HARD, this dieting shite. How do all these skinny celebs manage to keep it up for always, especially when they have all that money to buy nice things to eat? They must be FUCKING MENTAL.

 

 

I’m Fucking Starving

 

I could eat my legs. Raw.

Sorry I haven’t done the comments tonight, my fingers are wasting away and if I type too much they’ll snap off.

I’m going to bed. Hungry. Like the wolf (not Kumblant, the  disloyal little fucker).

I hope I don’t eat my bedroom.

 

Dotty Diet Day One

 

It’s Day One of my new diet and I’m reporting in, like I said I would. I’m doing BRILLIANTLY so far. I’ve just had my breakfast, Cumberland sausage sandwiches, and there’s no fatty shite left in the house because I ate it all last night – well, I do live in Yorkshire and I am three quarters Scottish, what did you expect me to do, throw it away and waste all that money? As if.

Here’s what I’ll be having for my dinner –

lettuce

rocket

some other leafy shite

tomatoes (I like baby plums)

beetroot (not pickled – bleaarggh!)

radish

a good squirt of extra-light mayonnaise

AND THAT’S IT.

I wanted to grate some Double Gloucester over it all but I can’t because THIS PERSON put me off it for life. I’m going to miss my cheesey treat but the thought of eating it makes me feel SICK now. Thank you very much.

 

Salad requires a lot of EATING doesn’t it? On average a gobful of mixed salad takes around 32 chews whereas a big bite of Cumberland sausage sandwich takes 15 until it’s masticated enough to swallow without choking yourself. I don’t think I’ve invented this theory, I think it was discovered by an Edwardian who used it as the philosophical basis of THE 32 CHEWS DIET, a diet that says you can eat ANYTHING as long as you chew it 32 times. So now I’m on TWO diets, DOTTY’S FUCKING FAT ARSE DIET and THE 32 CHEWS DIET. Brownie points to ME!

There are other diets I’m considering. That one where you eat lots of meat – THE GREAT PILE OF MEAT ON YOUR PLATE DIET, I can’t remember its real name, it might begin with D. Or the caveman diet (again, I can’t remember the name, fucking STIG OF THE DUMP DIET or something), where all you eat is what cavemen would have eaten, and that’s all good and well because they must have had a healthy diet or we all wouldn’t be here now but what I want to know is if we have to eat what cavemen ate, is this BEFORE or AFTER fire was invented? It makes a big difference – I don’t mind the odd raw Cumberland sausage if I’m too desperate to wait for them to cook, but RAW RATS and RAW INSECTS with a side-dish of BERRIES don’t really appeal to me that much. And what about FAT? During summertime cavemen ate ALL THE FAT THEY COULD GET and stored it on their arses so that in the depths of winter they had a warm cushion between their arses and the cold stone floors of their caves. I might be a She-Hermit, but I don’t live in a cave. Hmmmm.

 

So that’s four diets I’m on if THE STIG OF THE DUMP DIET is intended for AFTER FIRE WAS INVENTED, if it isn’t then I’m only on three. I’m off to look for others – common sense dictates that the more diets I’m on, the more fat I’ll lose. I’ll be swinging my skinny arse round the house in no time.

 

Enjoy your dinner.

 

The Hidden Horrific Horror Of Hermititis

 

There are some things in this world a woman should never have to see and her own fat arse is one of them. I saw mine. In a mirror, two mirrors to be precise – not because my arse NEEDS two mirrors to be seen (it’s fat but not THAT fat) but because with two mirrors you can do that looking-back thing to see what everyone else sees and I wanted to see what my new combat pants look like (the internet sent them) so I rang Lottie to tell her to bring round the mirrors.

Eight panic attacks (severe enough for two heart attack scares) later and I realised I should have just stayed curious.

Listen to me, She-Hermits – Hermititis is BAD FOR THE ARSE. Very bad. If you’re in the early stages and you’re still able to go out of the house, GET IT SORTED OUT NOW before it gets any worse or your arse will spread like a fucking HUGE blancmange and after a few years it will SUFFOCATE YOU IN YOUR SLEEP. I’m about a year away from having to have scaffolding erected to hold the fucker up when I walk.

And that’s what’s done it, not WALKING. I used to walk all over the place, I loved walking, but now I can only walk round the house so many times before I’m LITERALLY bouncing off the walls with boredom – walk, walk, walk, walk, BOING, walk, walk, walk, walk, BOING, walk, walk, walk, walk, BOING.

So I’ve made a decision (HALLELUJAH!) and what I’ve decided is that from tomorrow I’m putting my arse ON A DIET.

This is my diet (below)

 

DOTTY’S FUCKING FAT ARSE DIET.

No more McCain’s Chippy Chips

No more Hobnobs (when I’ve scranned the two packets in the cupboard)

No more Double Gloucester cheese (which is FUCKING LOVELY when grated over a plateful of McCains’s Chippy Chips and thick Bisto gravy (beefy).

No more Goodfella’s Thin And Crispy Twelve Cheeses Pizza (AHA! Betcha didn’t expect me to eat Italian cuisine – I do have SOME secrets I don’t tell you all (y’all)).

 

I think that’s it.

 

As for exercise, I haven’t been able to do my own invention exercise (which you can find HERE – CLICK IT CLICK IT) because I can’t hear the Jaws music properly so I can’t tell when Jaws is circling close to my table. So I looked up arse exercises on the internet and found some that I’ll have a go at, but one I WON’T BE DOING is the one where you have to get down on all fours and cock your leg like a dog pissing on a lamp post. I might have a fat arse but I still have my DIGNITY.

 

I’ll let you know how it goes.

 

 

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