I’m at the very beginning of a dry fast and am genuinely scared. This was all supposed to begin early this morning but I fell victim to two croissants, a burger and three rashes of bacon. All washed down with a warm serving of coffee.  

I feel dread, despair and guilt.  
I’m always falling into this spiral of temptation and sometimes cannot see a way out. This is both a confessional and an antidote of sorts to try to help motivate myself to try harder.

I checked the scales this morning and those packets of Cadburys chocolates and KitKat cost me 2 kilos.
Up 99.
 
I really, should try, harder.

This is difficult. Anyone who says fasting is a piece of cake is lying. They probably chomped on said cake, washed it down with milkshake and will offer you another bridge for sale come lunchtime. This shit is difficult and today I’m finding it extra stressful.  

On day one.
 
I feel like throwing in the towel and going to McDonalds for dinner.  That burger’s paper but strokes the mark. That’s how bad today is. What’s point of it all, when you’re gonna gain that extra kilo by tomorrow anyway?? 

Fat.
Pessimism.
Guilt.
Pain.
Regret.

You name it.
All there.
All me.

All in one day, and it’s not even 3pm yet.  
That’s when the kids get here.
Then the f**k’n smiley circus continues.