Two days and two notches

In an effort to try and lose a pound or two of weight, this week I have decided to walk more than usual and to do my best and keep an eye on my eating habits.  So gone out of the window are those little snacks I used to have between meals.  Those wonderfully tasting high calorie posing as healthy food supplements.  The ones who are guilt of unhealthily contributing to my waist size.  You know them.  In addition to cut out all the usual junk I would eat.  Thus far after two days there have been no biscuits, crisps, sweets, chocolate, cakes and even alcohol.  For a pint of Guinness is approximately 350 calories.  If I have 7 or 8 in a week it soon mounts up.  I've also been getting off the train one stop earlier and walking an additional fifteen minutes each way.  Day two and all is just about working OK. I've even temporarily reduced my caffeine intake, as it seemed a cup of coffee or two or three cups which were only being partly drunk in the mornings was not making me feel well.  Lets not forget I stood on a set of scales.  No wonder Sparkling laughs more at me when she sees how much rounder my girth has got.  If being content means putting on weight, well, I'd better learn to be discontent all over again.

It's just I'm in one of those phases.  Where being overweight is making me fed up with myself.  Fed up with finding I pant when walking up two flights of stairs, fed up of belts straining and needing yet another hole in so they can expand a little further.  Not to mention the many other changes which happen to the body when it gets heavier.  They are just not nice little things, perspiring more easily being one of them.  Although I must admit there is a kind of bearing one has when one is larger which does make other people get out of the way.  Or could it be you're more likely to push other people out of the way without realising it because of size.  I know having a pot belly isn't good for a man.  It is one of the symptoms of heart attacks later on.  Yep, pot bellied men will tend to grab their chest, or arm and suddenly get taken to hospital.  There is no doubt about it, I have to up my exercise routine, hence the walking. 

I don't know how much longer this dedication can last, but I'm now at the point of wondering whether I should find something to carve notches in.  Like a walking stick but if I had a walking stick then I would really have health issues.  For the time being I should be glad.  Better not count my doughnuts before they to stale though.