Folks, I let you all down. I fucked up.
Last Friday I managed to drop to 180lb (just shy of 13 stone). I felt great, like I’d persevered and knuckled through the suck. My gut was down, my energy levels were great. I was Ferris fucking Bueller!
And then the weekend happened.
I’m not going to go into detail ad nauseum, but a quick summary would be: Pizza. Beer. Sitting on my balls (yeah we do that in Ireland, don’t judge).
Rinse. Repeat and Kapow! You’re back to fat old McGee again.
Week 3 has taught me that the weekend is clearly not to be trusted.
I had to sweat like a bastard Mon, Tue and Wed just to offset the damage.
So as of this week, I’m still at 186.2lb. The last week was for nothing.
The good news is I’m getting used to reducing my calorie intake, and I’m also getting accustomed to doing longer more intense exercise.
I’ve managed to drop 10lbs in 3 full weeks. At this rate, I’ll come out roughly 16lbs shy of the target 140lbs. Hopefully I can stay the course and make up the numbers.
As old-man Bulge used to say:
“SUCK IT OR I’LL SHOVE IT IN YOUR FUCKING EYE SOCKET!”
