You can't eat a packet of Fruittellas one by one. Not just Fruittellas, I'm using them just because they're what I'm eating right now. Same applies to Opal Fruits (in my head it's still about 1994, and there is no such sweet as 'Starbursts') and Chewits and them right good Vimto sweets. What you have to do, right, is open the pack down the seam thing, and unwrap each sweet. If you tear the paper on any of the sweets you have to throw the whole packet away, because then they are tainted. When you have them all unwrapped, you have to eat them all at once. There is no other way.
That's not a metaphor for owt, you know, I'm just sharing wisdom.
I need to lose 4kg. A kilo from each leg (including my arse cheeks), a kilo from my torso, a third of a kilo from each arm and then a third from my face. I have a fat face, oui oui. I realised today that the only way to get cheekbones, when you're over 16, is to invent a time machine so you can BE 16 or to go down the whole emaciated road. Thing is, I've done the emaciation thing and it just gave me facial hair. So I think this time I'll make a time machine. I'm thinking now is the time for sanity, and so my good nourished brain should be right able to make a time machine. I don't even really want cheekbones, but there you go. All I want is FIIIIIIIINE legs, because they will look beautiful with my straw boater (UPDATE- I have £2.17 in my bank, otherwise I'd have bought one today. Turns out the only place to buy one is a fancy dress site, hahaha. So I'mma get one in the next few weeks, when I get my sick pay, and then do it up with fake flowers and ribbons)/gold bikini ensemble. I'm not sure it fully counts as an ensemble, because I'm going to do that thing, that hobos do. You know how they wear socks forever so that their skin sort of grows over them and they become part of their feet (I tried to do that last year, with some pink glittery socks, because I fancied the idea of glittery feet. But my feet got claustrophobic and they felt sick and so that was that done)... Anyway, my gold bikini will become... my gold tootlie wootlie. Or summat. Score.
So really, I have no need for a time machine. I just want my legs to be ok, that's all! At least a kg lost a week, at least 3 miles walked a day. Come onnnnnn, Operation FIIIIIIIINE legs.
I need to stop eating. I was doing well, I was doing well and sane and pretty hell-fee and now I'm trying to decide whether or not to stop binging. Like it's actually a decision, hahahaha. Oh, sure. IT'S ALL A CHOICE, EVERYTHING IS A CHOICE. Sane people have a twisted view of freedom. You can have all the pissing political and social freedoms in the world, but when... Oh, stop pretending to be deep, Rebecca. Stop being inappropriate with your bread ;)