Preparations are well advanced to make sure that nothing, absolutely nothing interferes with my viewing experience for the next three weeks. My beloved’s absence for the next two weeks will considerably assist. Yesterday evening, down at the cycling club, the committee tried to arrange a meeting for next Tuesday afternoon. I was having none of it. Call yourself cycling fans? Instead, we’re having it on Monday morning. I then got an email from my cycling coach, suggesting we ride together on Monday morning. I told him I wasn’t available on that morning but I was on the others.

Yesterday’s weigh in went well, my blubber is slowly dissolving however I’m still retaining water. Yes, I can validly use that excuse. It ranks right up there with ” It’s just puppy fat” and “I’m big-boned.” My nutritionist’s scales break down your body composition. I suspect it can also tell her what I’ve had for breakfast. On my last visit, she suggested some homeopathic pills to aid water elimination. What she didn’t tell me was how often it would want to make me pee: like every two minutes. Short of placing a bulk order for some Tena Lady, I wasn’t going to be leaving the house anytime soon, particularly not on a bike in bib shorts.  I’m famed for my bladder control. I’m not taking the tablets.

I’ve now been on my new regime for 9 months. It’s working well, aside from the water retention which I blame on the heat. If we subtract the extra liquid weight, I’m 3/4’s of the way towards my goal. At which point, I’ll weigh less than about 50% of the professional peloton, but still more than the one’s who’re my height. This, as we know, is because men have a lower BMI than women, particularly one’s of my age.  I’m making no comparisons with female pros, they ALL weigh less than me.

Yesterday, I reluctantly took off all my rings as they keep sliding off. Who’d have thought you could carry so much podge on your fingers? I’ll be taking them to the jeweller’s to have them made smaller. My beloved bought me my “engagement” ring after we’d been married for eleven years. A bit late I know but, when he asked me to marry him, I suggested he defer buying a ring until he could afford one I might like. I have large hands, anything less than a rock looks ridiculous. Yes, it’s another instance of where size matters.

When my mother decided to upsize her solitaire engagement ring, my beloved bought it and made it larger by surrounding it with diamond petals. With her advancing Alzheimer’s, my father now only allows my mother to wear a few things from her extensive, and very lovely, jewellry collection fearing she will lose or misplace it. As a result, he’s decided to pass on some of her pieces to his girls. He’s very kindly given me her upsized solitaire, a beautiful stone which always looked huge on my mother’s dainty hands. When she flashed it we would say “reach for the shades, you’re dazzling us”. Despite it’s size, it doesn’t have quite the same allure on my hand so I’m probably going to have to indulge in another redesign.

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