Result!!!!!??

That went well then (election thingy).  I am just absolutely gutted that I wasn't one of those left-out-in-the- cold last-minute voters who are apparently all entitled to a whopping £750.00 in compensation - effectively for being tardy procrastinators.  Personally I'm wondering if they had genuinely wanted to vote why get there so late? not exactly chomping at the bit  now were they?

I have just calculated the accuracy of my poll, and I am relieved to say, in terms of a reliable measure of the general populus, it was absolute crap.  According to you lot the Conservatives were getting 54% of the vote - actual was 36%, although the poll was correct in suggesting the Conservatives would get the majority of the votes overall.  Labour and Lib Dems you said 8% each, whereas they actually got 29% and 23% respectively; and for the 'Other' category you predicted 30% and in reality it was 12%.    On the basis of the above it seems obvious, to me at least, that there is a genuine need to introduce proportional representation.  And also no need for me to panic about the lack of 'how's your father' going on in our house - my little control group being far from the norm.

Enough of sex and politics though.  The Country is on its knees and I am sick to the high teeth of hearing about it.  Thank goodness for Britains Got Talent is all I can say, what better way to forget the doom and gloom than by watching such mindlessly entertaining trash......We love you Piers.

For something completely different, I was truly shocked yesterday afternoon to discover that my well worn, well loved and been-with-me-for-30 years teddy, Arthur, has undergone some transgender surgery.  Well I don't actually know whether he has taken it quite to that extreme but I was very disturbed to find him sat on the girls shelves dressed in a pink tutu with face covered in blusher and lipstick.  A genuine sign of the times I feel.  I can still remember the day I got him, July 16th 1980, and how he immediately won my heart.  From that day onwards he became my trusted companion, travelled wherever I went and was always there to listen to my worldly sorrows.  I wonder whether it was during these fundamental formational years that I somehow sewed within him the seed of his manly disatisfaction?.  If so, I probably ought to start saving for Danny's op right now.

Anyway I do appreciate that this blog is supposed to be an account of my physical progress, as well as my current affairs, and that mostly I try and avoid it if possible.  You remember however that I said  by March 31st I wanted to be 11stone 7lbs??  Well that didn't happen, unless perhaps we're talking about just my legs, arms and my left breast.  Even worse, this morning I weighed myself and I have put 4lbs back on!  4lbs.  Disgusting.  Although saying that I thoroughly deserve it.  My pot noodle consumption over the last week has been ridiculous.  So today I decided upon a new measure.  And I know, I know, I know that every other week I am coming up with some new fangled way of trying to motivate my weight loss.  But eventually surely one of them has to work!!

Today's brain child is dress therapy. 

Several weeks ago I bought a dress in the sales.   I think I already said actually......purple, silk, beautiful, £90 down to a tenner (making it ever so much more attractive) and waaayyyy too tight.  I put it on this morning, stood in the mirror and examined myself (in it that is), and I just need to shift fourteen pounds and a few cup sizes then it'll look fab (ish).   So my plan is to hang it on my wardrobe and gaze upon it every day in the hope that this will help me to stay focussed.  I'm sure in the days of Moses this could well be classed as an 'idol' and I should infact be hanging a picture of the Saviour on my wardrobe  if I wish to focus on something worthwhile.  Although in the days of Moses all I would be eating is 'manner  from heaven' and definitely no pot noodles, so it is highly unlikely I'd even have a weight problem -  therefore making the dress worship redundant.  

And yes I do understand that in reality beauty does come strictly from within - lately though I feel  my 'within' rather resembles a rotting old corpse.  I don't do a great deal to cultivate my inner beauty, not unless watching the superbly moral 'Glee' counts?  If only I spent as much time preening my inside as I do plucking and preening the outside, well who knows where I might be - on which note I might also report that last night I got tres carried away avec le tweezers and upon evaluation feel I may now have to find a vulcan colony somewhere in order to fit in.

RAC routeplanner time.

x x