Losing it, hopefully

The art of putting less calories in your body than you have been doing to this point in time, is something that I've never really attempted before. When I've lost a few dozen pounds before, it's been down to exercise or a tape worm. It's been four, or has it been five days on a loose but serious diet - no it's nothing to do with Lent. Lola is attempting to convince me that more is actually less from breakfast to dinner, and I must admit I think I might be coming round. It sounds like a cliché, a wife putting her husband on a diet, but frankly, who else was going to do it? Someone had to tear up the menu of curries, chilli, spagbol, stir fries and lasagna with chips. She is extending my life expectancy, this is a good thing, I keep telling myself that.

And so it's happened. Eating more at breakfast seems to be the key to not tearing apart the nearest mammal at 6.30 each night to taste its blood. I feel better and the 'episodes' have stopped. Sshhh. I've probably eaten more of what you humans call "vegetables" in the last week than I have in the last decade. I'm not making light of it since it's probably healthier to pull sunflower seeds out of your teeth than a chicken drumstick.

St. Patrick's Day is probably a major spanner in the works tonight but I've always regarded Guinness as food anyhow. We'll keep it up but I'm worried that my new suit, which is a little big on me already, might start to flap in all the wind.