When waiting to go to the gym means eating chocolate

and ice-cream. Well, frozen yoghurt.

Chef had to pick up the van this morning that broke down because the guy who owns it only believes in making money from it not actually taking care of it. Idiot.

Anyway, I had to drop him off (I promise this story improves somewhere in here) which meant breaking the Good Child’s sleep again. I was also about to go to the gym. No really. I’m in ugly clothes and everything.

So I’m back and he’s nowhere to be found. Idiot mechanics trying to explain what they’ve done and what was wrong with a man who pops the lid on any car and utters, “I’m guessing that would be the engine.” I can see him, standing there thinking “fuck it’s hot” while some well-intentioned grease monkey goes on and on and on.

Anyway, when you are feeling pretty down about your weight (which therefore means an marked increase in food intake, natch) what better time to eat a Freddo Frog and a few scoops of frozen yoghurt. And a lemonade icypole.

I mean seriously, like my role as a mother is to start the day as Mary Poppins and end it as Cruella De Ville, my role as a fat person is to kick off as Kate Moss and finish as Kirstie Alley. Before it was raining men.