Nobody Just “Falls Off The Wagon”

I don’t know what it is about the process of attempting to lose weight, but it sure does bring out some really annoying attitudes, pathetic excuses and dumb ways of phrasing shit in a lot of folk. Otherwise rational, reasonable people start to talk about this pretty straight-forward process like they suddenly lost their inner BS-detector. One phrase in particular that really annoys me is:

“I fell off the wagon!”

AAARRRGGGHHH! Even just typing it out sets my teeth on edge! It’s a phrase borrowed from other addiction recovery programs, but all it really means is:

“I chose to fuck up.”

Saying you “fell off the wagon” is nothing more than a cutesy attempt to shift the onus of blame away from yourself and make it sound like you’re just a passive victim of an unfortunate accident. Which is bullshit. You didn’t just slip, trip, land face-first into that Big Mac & French Fries, you made the choice to purposely go purchase, procure and proceed to eat that stuff. And unless you have a legitimate medical condition that causes you to get up and do weird shit in your sleep, that pint of Ben & Jerry’s you inhaled at 3am wasn’t accidental; you WANTED to eat it and you DID eat it. #NoSuchThingAsSnaccidents

It’s infuriating, listening to people who would otherwise be totally candid about their goal-oriented behaviours, suddenly go all coy and refuse to own their shit. People who would normally be perfectly okay at admitting to their not having made a deadline on a project, or having to confess to not learning a new language or skill as soon as they’d hoped, go completely bat-shit crazy when it comes to being honest about what they’ve been eating. It’s as if there’s some extra-special kid gloves we’re all supposed to handle each other with, just because we’re trying to shift a bit of flab. Why is that? Why are people who are trying to lose weight, so terminally reluctant to just fess up and tell it like it really is?

I sat and tried to figure it out earlier today and the closest I could get to what felt like a real reason, has its roots in the notion of sin. In the Christian tradition, the seven deadly sins refer to seven vices relating to our core human passions or desires. These vices speak to our most instinctive drives, hence their relevance to understanding human behaviour and motivation. Regardless of whether or not one considers themselves to be Christian in the religious sense, those of us who grew up in western nations are still what you’d call “culturally Christian”, having been exposed to multiple Christian traditions, celebrations, teachings and ways of thinking throughout our lives. Sin might not be something that you necessarily think holds any sway with you, but if you grew up in a society that still recognisess ‘Gluttony’ as one of the ‘7 Deadly Sins’, there’s a chance you may have internalised both the concept itself, and the way in which said ‘sin’ is played out in all media.

Gluttony (Latin: gula, derived from the Latin gluttire meaning “to gulp down or swallow”) means over-indulgence and over-consumption of food, drink, or wealth items, particularly as status symbols. In Christianity, it is considered a sin if the excessive desire for food causes it to be withheld from the needy.

And make no mistake, gluttony is very much considered to be seriously sinful behaviour in the bible:

Gluttony in the Bible:

  • Gluttony plunged the whole human race into a state of sin and misery with the first transgression (Genesis 3:6).
  • Gluttony, or “excess of food,” led to a curse of utter destruction upon Sodom, the standard example of God’s wrath and judgment (Ezekiel 16:49).
  • In Moses’ day, when Israel craved meat in the wilderness, the Lord sent quail. “While the meat was yet between their teeth, before it was consumed, the anger of the LORD was kindled against the people, and the LORD struck down the people with a very great plague” Interestingly, the name of the place was called “Kibroth-hattaavah” which means “Graves of Craving” (Number 11:18-34Psalm 78:26-31).

(The above bullet points were taken from

Now without getting into the ecumenical differences between the Roman Catholic interpretation of Mortal or Venial sins, and the Protestant way of grading certain degrees of sin, it’s still obvious that gluttony has been viewed as a very ‘sinful’ behavioural trait throughout all of Christendom. Which probably goes some way to explaining why we view fat people as being disgusting. It’s not just that obesity is unhealthy and can make the overweight individual appear noticeably short of breath, sweaty and uncomfortable; it’s also something that goes to the very core of what we as a civilised society, believe to be in direct opposition of that which is good and honourable and righteous. And unlike other sinners, who commit various other moral transgressions, fat people wear their sins on the outside for all the world to see. There is no hiding the evidence of gluttony – from God OR anyone else.

It goes without saying then that to embark upon a concerted effort to lose weight – to renounce gluttony – is therefore a righteous act of contrition. It shows that the individual in question has sufficient moral rectitude to make themselves right with their maker…or at least begin to respect their mortal selves. (There is also a wealth of studies which found anorectics – mostly women suffering from self-induced anorexia nervosa – often associate their abstaining from food, to be considered by the sufferer as making them ‘pure’ and ‘clean’ and unsullied by the giving in to mortal temptation. There’s actually a really good book that those of you who are interested in the history of disordered eating and religion, should definitely check out. It’s called “Fasting Girls: The History of Anorexia Nervosa” (Vintage) by Joan Jacobs Brumberg and it’s a fascinating read. The overlap between religious practices and eating habits goes far deeper than many of us actually realise; but it sure does explain a lot of the stuff I’d tried to summarise here, in my sinfully, heretical, atheistic way!)

Perhaps that’s why the successful seem so full of zeal as they claw their way back to salvation…and in turn, why those who fail feel so utterly condemned to damnation. At least on a somewhat subconscious level. I’m not suggesting that everyone who tries to lose a bit of weight is literally enduring the agonies and the ecstasies of a religious transformation. But there is a lot to be said for the notable parallels we can draw from the origins of gluttony as a sin, and they ways in which we regard fatness, obesity and weight-loss as a society.

Those who claim to have “fallen off the wagon” are actually internalising the notion of having “fallen from grace” (which makes sense when you bear in mind that the phrase gained popularity by members of Alcoholics Anonymous – an organisation structured upon its roots in Christian fellowship and the concept of giving oneself over to a “higher power”.) But to have “fallen from God’s grace” doesn’t mean that you accidentally sinned, it is very much because of your intended actions that you have “fallen from his grace”. Your sinful ways have caused you to lose your seat with Christ at the right-hand of the throne of God. So too then must you accept, that when you choose to “stray from the path of righteousness” when following a weight-loss plan, you are not accidentally “falling off the wagon”, but choosing to jump off it, of your own (God given) free will.

Because (to labour the biblical reference a little more – bear with me!) the Roman Catholic church instituted the sacrament of reconciliation (penance, confession) precisely for the possibility of the forgiveness of our sins. (It is vitally important that Roman Catholics’ confess sins on a regular basis, especially if one is in “a state of Mortal sin”. A person who dies in Mortal sin cannot enter the kingdom of heaven, and is doomed to eternal suffering in hell. So, what happens if you do not complete all the penance, or don’t confess all the Venial sins – the not hell-worthy ones – in your life before you die ? You go to purgatory. The Final Penance. The penance you do at the end of your life on the way up to heaven, if you even make it after a million years of purging.)

Now recent uses of the term “purging” aside (yeah, I ain’t touching THAT issue with a barge-pole right now – even if there’s lot to be said for the emotive associations that can also be found within both the sacred and the profane) the basic idea is that only by the truth can you truly be set free. And I think that’s a very real, idea that we could – and should – try to take on board when talking about how we’ve been doing on our current weight-loss journey or new way of eating.

Basically, if you fuck up, just admit that you fucked up. Take ownership for both the conscious decision you make to abandon your plan AND the subsequent actions that you CHOSE to carry out. Couching your behaviour in terminology designed entirely to modify their impact is dishonest. You are doing both yourself and the person you are relaying this to, a disservice as you treat them like someone too stupid to know what you really got up to. Do not insult the intelligence of someone by playing down your choices or making them sound like the inevitable yet unintended consequences of your utterly innocent actions. We know what you did; please don’t patronise us.

Just own your shit. Stop wrapping it all up in some cutesy aphorism that you hope will absolve you of your sins. Confessing what’s in your heart is what will bring you the absolution you really need.

So the next time you make the choice to eat a bunch of crap, don’t just try to play it down as a minor “slip-up”. Be honest, to yourself and anyone else you share your weight-loss journey with. Confess, take responsibility and start to think a little on why exactly you felt the need to make the choice you did. Because it was a choice and if you want to stop making that same choice, then you need to figure out what it is that keeps making it so easy for you to make those bad choices. What you DON’T need is a bunch of molly-coddling enablers, rushing to smother you with their own empty platitudes…which are really just their way of justifying their own bad choices, without having to take any personal responsibility either.

The more you lie to yourself, or to others, the less likely you are to truly get a handle on your weight, or other issues with food. And the more you try to couch your actions in cutesy little terms like “I fell off the wagon”, the longer it’s gonna take you to conquer your demons.

We owe it to ourselves to be as brutally honest with ourselves as we can. As painful and uncomfortable as it may be to have to admit that our “flesh is weak“, in the long run it will benefit us so much more. We are only ever as sick as our secrets, so learn to walk with honesty & integrity and the truth will inevitably set you free.

Choose life. Choose whether to eat that cake or eat the whole buffet. But own your choices and grow to understand what prompts you to make those choices. And choose the words you use to talk about those choices too. Allow yourself to be vulnerable enough to show why you chose to act the way you did in that moment. When you do all of this, there are no deep dark corners anymore for which you need feel ashamed.

Stay honest folks – especially with yourselves,


Self Talk

They think that I’m crazy
They say I’m strange
‘Cause my attitude
Has taken a change

I’m not the kind of person who responds well to fluffy, gentle, soppy comments or words of encouragement – even if they come from a place of genuine care and concern. I hate being patronised and even if it isn’t meant that way, someone coming at me with a bunch of purple-prosed love-bombing, immediately makes me want to kind of vomit. I don’t want to be patted on the head for doing something good, nor do I need anyone to sympathise with me if I fuck up. It feels condescending and – newsflash – I’m actually a big girl who doesn’t need to be molly-coddled by anyone. No, I like “real talk”. Give it to me straight or GTFO.

And that way of thinking is just as direct when it comes to how I talk to myself. I mean, not talk “to” myself like some crazy lady on the bus who no one wants to sit next to (okay, so I do sometimes do that too, but that’s not what I’m getting at here), rather the tone in which I engage in “self-talk”. I talk to myself in ways which some therapists would probably find a bit severe and likely would try to psychoanalyse as being the by-product of some deep-rooted self-hatred. But trust me boo, I know me better than anyone else and trust me when I tell you that this bitch don’t respond well to anything less than a firm hand and the occasional kick up the arse.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I’m negative or down on myself. I mean, let’s be real, I’m pretty fucking awesome and even on my worst days I know I’m infinitely superior to all other beings in the known universe (note: I said “known” universe there…even I’M not arrogant enough to think I’m better than ALL potential sentient beings…gotta have at least a bit of humility, right?) so I’m not in the habit of being hyper-critical. But anytime I find myself veering off towards making a bad decision or going against what I know to be stupid, you can bet your life that my inner voice pipes up with an internal:

“What the fuck are you doing?”


“Why would you even think that’s a good idea??”


“Are you frickin mental? Sort your shit out Blue. Enough of this bullshit!”

And it’s usually enough to get me to take a step back and reassess whatever stupid shit it is that I’m about to embark upon. That doesn’t mean I don’t DO stupid shit – far from it. In fact some of my best memories come from doing the stupidest shit possible; often at the most inappropriate of times. But I’ve done all that stuff with the full presence of mind that it was probably an incredibly dumb thing to do…I just ended up deciding in the moment that the plusses outweighed the negatives and “to hell with the consequences”.

Which is probably why I ended up letting myself get to the size I was back in August of this year. It’s not that I was just naively plodding along, getting fat behind my own back – I KNEW that I was eating badly and making myself unhealthier with every sugar-saturated snack I scarfed down – but I was actively choosing to make those bad choices because there really didn’t seem to be any immediate, short-term consequences affecting me. I was telling myself “to hell with the consequences” on a daily basis. And it wasn’t until the fibromyalgia & arthritis kicked it, that I really started to feel the physical effects of all those bad decisions. When that shit started to go south, it was time to sit down and have some serious conversations with myself about what I was going to do about it.

“Ya gotta sort this crap out, Blue. Stop messing around and playing fast & loose with your health. You’re way too fat and it’s time you did something about it.”

Now I’d messed around with the idea of losing weight before, but the motivation was never really there. It was always just a vague, nebulous notion of being a bit thinner, but my life was too good for there to be anything truly impactful to give me the impetus to make any changes for good. So I’d maybe make a slight effort for a while, lose a bit, then when I got bored I’d just abandon the idea entirely. And why not? It’s not like there were any tangible ramifications to my actions that were spurring me on to stay the course. So my “self-talk” at the time was more like:

“Fuck it. It’s not like your life is going to be any different if you lose a bunch of weight. Why bother? Life’s too short!”


“You’re just a big girl Blue. Always have been, always will be.”


“You have a gorgeous boyfriend, a great job, loads of friends – what difference would being thinner make? Nah, you CAN have your cake and eat it!”

And eat the cake I did. I ate ALL of the cakes. And they were bloody good cakes too (life’s too short for “sad” cakes – that much I still stand by). But the time came when the love of cake got in the way of my being able to live the rest of my life properly. And so I decided to make some changes to my eating habits.

I already knew a lot about the low-carb WOE, T2DA, hyperinsulinaemia and the problems that a carb-heavy ‘Standard American Diet’ caused. For the past 20 years I’d been keeping up with all the studies and new information available about Atkins, The South Beach Diet, paleo, keto and carnivore – maybe deep down I knew that I was going to put all that research to good use one day – so I was already intellectually prepared for the change over to a low-carb WOE; but in order to succeed on this new way of life, I still needed to make the necessary changes to my mindset.

I couldn’t really call myself a serial failed dieter…because in order to fail, I would first have needed to actually try. And if I’m being at all honest with myself, I really didn’t make any effort to try during those prior proto-forays into the world of weight-loss. I didn’t care about the outcome, so I never sat down and thought about the process of goal-setting, with a view to losing a certain, desirable amount of weight. This time was different though. I had a very real desire to set and achieve a definitive goal, with some very real reasoning to motivate me to want to do it. Cue my newly focused “self-talk”.

Some people say that it’s a really bad idea to have an “all-or-nothing” approach to eating habits when trying to lose weight. You’ll hear talk of the “80/20” rule where you eat on plan for 80% of the time and then get to eat off-plan for 20% of the time. Which probably sounds fairly sensible if you’re just doing CICO. But eating low-carb is different. If you eat off-plan, you take yourself out of ketosis, make your body change over to glycolysis, your pancreas has to suddenly start kicking out huge amounts of insulin again, your inflammation levels ramp up and then you have to go back through the keto-flu misery when you finally decide to get back on-plan and have to force your body back into ketosis again. Never mind how horrible it probably feels to have to endure the sugar-hangover and subsequent keto-flu; that really can’t be a very healthy process to regularly put your body through. Sure our bodies evolved to be primarily ketogenic with the ability to eat berries and some vegetation when animal food sources weren’t readily available; but our bodies were never designed to deal with insanely high amounts of processed sugars that most of us eat on a daily basis.

I don’t want to come across as some kind of newly converted keto-evangelist, because lord knows I’ve put my own poor body through the wringer over the past 40 years. But it just seems really counter-intuitive to go to all the effort of ridding one’s system of all that sugar and become keto-adapted, if you’re going to keep regularly returning to that previous way of eating, under the premise of being “sensible” and following an 80/20 rule. If you’re willingly regressing back into old eating habits on a regular basis, then you’re not doing this for health or for the long-term benefits to your body; you’re really only concerned about the weight-loss aspect of it. And that’s not what I’m trying to achieve with this new way of eating.

I need this to work, because I need to fix my health problems. Sugar is a problem for me. It’s not only something that I believe I became addicted to, it exacerbates my fibromyalgia and my psoriatic arthritis. It triggers inflammation in my body, causes lethargy, plays havoc with my skin and contributes to brain fog. Having eradicated it from my diet has shown me just how much better I can – and do – feel, now that I no longer consume it. So why would I want to add it back into my diet again – even if only for a day or so – when I know how badly it effects my health? It doesn’t make sense to me.

Which is where my specific mindset or approach to all this comes in. When I first started out on this new low-carb WOE, I just sort of assumed that like many others, I would have “cheat days” where I actively made the decision to eat lots of “carbage” again. Because that’s what everyone else does, right? But I also wanted to make sure that I took at least a couple of months to really get myself properly settled into eating low-carb before I allowed myself a day off.

“Give it 2 months, then when you know what you’re doing and you’ve lost a bit of weight, you can have a day off – but not before then.”

So I went about eating this way, started seeing some results and also began feeling a lot better. The craving for sweet-stuff largely abated and it stopped feeling as though I was depriving myself of anything important. I still cooked pasta, potatoes, rice and bread for the other half, and whilst I won’t deny how great some of that stuff smelled (freshy basked bread especially!) there never came a moment when I thought I wanted to actually eat any of it. Not even when I ordered a take-away pizza for the man himself! I’d simply told myself:

“I just don’t eat that stuff.”

Much in the same way I tell people that I just don’t drink alcohol, any time they offer me a boozy beverage. It’s not that I’ve never drunk alcohol, I simply choose not to any more; because it makes me feel like shit the next day (and the hangovers have gotten so much worse with every passing birthday). So when the first couple of months of eating low-carb were under my belt, I had a little chat with myself about possibly wanting to have a “cheat day”.

“So, are you going to have a blow-out then?”

“Do you really need to eat something sugary?”

“Is this what you really want?”

“How are you going to feel afterwards?”

“Is it really worth it?”

And when I sat and thought about it, I came to the conclusion that I didn’t really want any of it. It really wasn’t worth it. I went through a weird little process where I tried to remember how I felt eating various food items in the past, and then I interrogated those memories to try and figure out how important it was for me to taste those foods again. It was actually quite difficult to conjure up any other associations with with sugar, other than:

“It tasted really nice!”

Which wasn’t really all that good of a reason to start putting the stuff back into my body again. So I decided not to. And I then decided that I wasn’t going to go off-plan at all over the Christmas period too; because what’s the point? A few moments of brief enjoyment, followed by potential feelings of guilt for having let myself down and then the inevitable carb-hangover? It just didn’t seem worth all the hassle.

“You don’t need that shit, Blue.”

“Why poison your body all over again, when you’ve gone to all this effort to get it out of your system?”

“Why would you want to go and make yourself feel like crap again?”

“Only a total fucking dick would go and start eating sugar again. Don’t. Be. A. Dick!”

And with that I just kind of decided that I didn’t want to feel like shit anymore. I wanted to feel good. I wanted to feel healthy again. And I wanted that way more than I wanted ANY slice of cake. It felt like I’d flipped a switch over in my brain as I just kind of let go of the notion that I needed or wanted to eat that way again.

“You’re so much better than that that, Blue. You don’t need any of that crap.”

“Bollocks to cheat days – they’re for the weak!”

“You’re fucking ABOVE that shit!”

(Did I mention that my inner-self also cusses like a sailor? Because that bitch has got a real mouth on her – probably should’ve warned y’all about her earlier, hmm? Yeah…my bad.)

I know that some people will be reading this thinking that I’m full of hubris and setting myself up for a major fall. And maybe they’re right. But maybe they’re just judging my ability to stay committed to this way of eating/way of life, based on their own ability – or inability – to do so themselves. Maybe I’ll stay committed to this choice, because I have so much at stake health-wise. Or maybe I just want it more.

All I know is, eating this way makes me feel good. And deep down inside myself I actually believe that I can stay committed to eating this way for the long haul. Because despite all my jokes and wise-cracks about cake, I really don’t feel as though I’m actually missing out on anything by not eating sugar. Yes that might change and yes I don’t know for sure how I’m going to think or feel 3 months, 6 months or a year or so down the line. But I know how stubborn I am and I know that when I’m determined to do something, I just fucking do it. And I know that the little voice that speaks to me inside my head believes I can do this too.

“You got this, Blue. And you damn well know it.”

Course I do. I’m fucking invincible.

Make good choices folks.

Be invincible.


Mind Games

“We all been playing those mind games forever
Some kinda druid dude lifting the veil
Doing the mind guerrilla
Some call it magic – the search for the grail.”

I love playing ‘mind games’ with myself. I know that probably sounds a bit messed up, but it’s something I’ve done for as long as I can remember and I credit it with playing a large part in my being able to both think critically and develop a strong sense of self. I think everyone probably does it to some extent; but in many cases it probably starts to get quite uncomfortable for some, as the testing, questions and self-reflection start to reveal certain truths that not everyone is ready to learn about themselves.

Do you ever try to figure out the true motivation that lies behind your actions? Do you question your behaviour or responses to certain stimuli, then try to find a way to get the better of your own brain and change the way you react in the moment? That’s part of what I mean when I talk about playing ‘mind games’ with myself. It’s interrogating myself on a conscious level and reprogramming my brain to then respond automatically on a subconscious level at a later date. It also involves using linguistic cues to trick the brain into thinking about something in a different way. It’s hard to explain in the abstract, so I’ll give you an example of how I’ve recently been playing these little ‘mind games’ with myself, in order to help me stop smoking.

Giving something up – something that you’re addicted to – is difficult because it often has both a physiological AND psychological hold on you at the same time. Nicotine leaves your system after about 72 hours (and cotinine – something your body makes after nicotine enters it – takes 1-10 days) so the physiological cravings will be with your for about 3 days after quitting smoking. Once you’ve gone about 4 or 5 days without smoking a cigarette, you’re technically out of physiological withdrawal / dependence. What’s left is a psychologically addicted brain that needs to retrain itself to no longer continue with the smoking habit (it takes at least 3 months for the brain chemistry to return to normal after last using nicotine) but getting yourself through those first 72 hours is generally the hardest part. Your body is going through the physiological withdrawal as well as experiencing the psychological stress of knowing that you cannot have another cigarette – ever!

Ever? I mean, that sounds like a helluva long time, right? And if you’ve ever tried to tell yourself that you cannot have something, you’ll know that your brain immediately decides that it really, REALLY wants said thing and starts to spend every waking moment trying to get you to give it that thing. So the minute you tell yourself:

“that’s it, no more smoking, this is it, never again…”

your brain goes into overdrive trying to get you to give it ‘just one more’ damn cigarette. You start to get antsy, you become hyper-aware of even the slightest, little annoyances and your temper starts to fray. All things that you know will be relieved by a hit of nicotine…but you’re not allowed any.

And so many people simply cave in at this point, you can hardly even class them as having made a genuine attempt. So how do you actually manage to get yourself through those first 3 days, without giving in to your cravings? Well, the way that I decided to go about it was…by not actually giving up. Yes you read that correctly, I managed to give up smoking, by not actually giving up. Bear with me, it does actually make sense, just let me explain.

When I was first thinking about quitting smoking, I tried to think of what was going to make it really hard (aside from the physiological withdrawal) and I immediately realised that it was the very act of being told I couldn’t do something, that would make me really want to do it (yeah, I’m a real dick like that sometimes, lol). So I had a little think about what it felt like to normally go a little longer between cigarettes and tried to use that as a template for future thought processes. Normally, I wouldn’t smoke for a couple of hours after getting up and then I might have a cigarette every hour or so. If I couldn’t smoke because I was busy doing something else, it’s not like I would suddenly become overwhelmed by thoughts of cigarettes and how best to get my next fix. Because by knowing that I could have another cigarette once I’d finished doing whatever it was I was doing, there was no panic. No desperate longing for a never-ever.

So it made sense to try and replicate that psychological process when trying to give up smoking for good. Rather than finish the last packet of smokes and leave myself without any at the moment the cravings kicked in, I decided to put a single cigarette in the ashtray and leave it where I could see it at all times. It needed to be on the periphery of my vision, so that I was always sending a message to my brain that there was a cigarette within my arm’s reach, any time I wanted it. Then I just proceeded to go about reading, writing, watching YouTube or whatever, all the time knowing I could smoke that cigarette at any time. Whenever the urge to smoke would start to rise up, I’d briefly interrogate that urge, ask myself if I really, REALLY needed to smoke the cigarette at that exact moment, or if I could just give it 5-10 minutes and see if I still really wanted it. And me being the weirdo that I am, I actually liked the idea of taking myself on with these ‘mini-challenges’ to se if I could go another 10 minutes without smoking…because it wasn’t like I was never going to be able to have another cigarette ever, right?

So I just kept on putting off having that cigarette and it’s still sitting in that ashtray, ready for when I decide that I really want it. It’s been 15 days now and I still haven’t smoked it. Not because I quit and not because I’m not allowed it (because remember, I can smoke that cigarette whenever I really feel the need to) but because I’ve just been repeatedly putting off smoking it, any time the urge has struck me. Of course, some of those decisions to delay smoking that cigarette have been a bit harder than others, but whenever the cravings have gotten particularly gnarly, I’ve just had a little chat with myself, emphasized how I only needed to wait out another 10 minutes and I could have it, and then allowed myself to feel particularly smug and proud for having made it through the 10 minutes in question.

And so far, it’s been working a charm! I won’t say I’ve quit smoking altogether…rather I’ve just put off having that cigarette for 15 days. The part of me which loves to get super competitive is really excited to see just how many days I can successfully “put off” having that cigarette (because that’s just another element of the little ‘mind-game’ I’m playing with myself) but the most important thing to remember in all this, in order to make this strategy work, is that there is absolutely nothing stopping me from smoking that cigarette at any point in all this. It’s right there, whenever I want it, ready to spark up.

But right now I don’t want it. I have some books to transfer onto my Kindle, a load of washing that needs to be done and a face-mask I really want to apply. So I’m just going to put off smoking it for now and see how I feel in another 10 minutes or so.

Because it’s not like I’m never gonna have a cigarette ever again.