Evidently, I misunderstood the text I received yesterday... she's not going to have the baby, she's going to have it unmade.

By the way, I did the math. Not possible.

Nine pounds. In six days. I am delighted and totally determined to keep it going.

In other news, when I woke this morning there was a text message waiting for me. It was from my 19 year old babysitter's phone saying that she's moved back to her home country to have my husband's baby. She was sorry I had to find out this way, but it just wasn't fair for her or her life...

All By Myself

So, I started this diet thing with two women from work thinking that a group would provide moral support. On Day Two, I got to work to find out that one of the girls had caved and given up. She was less than 24 hours into it. The other girl didn't start until Thursday after her business trip.

Today is Day Four for me. On the way home on the train I called my remaining diet buddy to offer her support over the weekend; she couldn't talk for long because she was busy eating a slice of bread. Great.


This is without a doubt the most difficult diet I have ever done. And I've done some dieting...

Anyway, right now I'm okay although not exactly euphoric. Apparently that will happen. I'm guessing it'll come at the moment when my death-breath actually kills someone.

I am giving it until Monday when I go get weighed. If I have not lost a significant amount of weight; I'm talking Biggest Loser type weight loss here, I am jumping off the scales and heading straight for Burger King where I'm going to pull the buns from two bacon double cheeseburgers and start Atkins.

In the meantime, when I want to eat, I'll just look in the mirror for inspiration.

Desperate Times

... call for desperate measures. I have finally found the determination to deal with my weight. I won't tell you what I'm doing because I don't want to hear all the reasons why I shouldn't do it. I know more about diet and nutrition than many professionals. The truth is, I'm an all or nothing kinda girl. And I know this will work. So I'm going for it.

Today is Day Two. All support gratefully accepted. And, if you're nice to me, I might even show you the results.

Edit: Nice rememberer Brian... I did post about Dead Susan before! She was Wee Susan then, but we must move with the times.

Small World

Our wee Scottish friend, Dead Susan went to Paris recently. While she was there, she threw on her Dublin jersey and went on the hunt for a good place to watch the football match. After a short search, she and her friend made their way in to a rather empty Australian bar and found a table with a great view of the big screen TV. Susan then offered to get the first round and headed for the bar.

Being a lover of all things Canadian (present company included) Susan was delighted to find that they were serving Molson products. She happily ordered a pint for herself and a black coffee for her friend. After a rather long discussion about whether the glass of ice she asked for was meant for the coffee or the beer, the bartender suggested she sit down and he'd have the drinks delivered to her table.

A few minutes later, an Australian waiter arrived with the drinks and Susan paid him. Obviously intrigued, he struck up a conversation,"So, you like Canadian beer?"

"Yeah," Susan replied, "I love most things Canadian."

"Me too, haven't been there yet, though. So you're not Irish then?"

"No, actually I'm Scottish."

"Right, I thought that's what your accent was...so why the Dublin jersey?"

"I'm living in Dublin just now."

"Cool! I was just there visiting my best friend. He's over there working with homeless kids. We stayed with him when we were there; he lives on one of the Quays right in town."

At this point, Susan remembered covering a shift for a colleague who had a friend coming to stay. After a small argument in her head she said, "Um, his name wouldn't be Patrick by any chance?"

"Too right! Hang on! How could you know that???" he asked, astonished.

"I work with an Aussie named Patrick who lives on Wellington Quay. Small world, eh?"

Indeed.

And on the Eighth Day...

she tried to catch her breath and take stock.

In the last eight days I have learned:

1. No matter what time I go to bed, 6am is too early. Unless I'm at a party, in which case it's actually quite late and I should go home.

2. Dublin 4 looks a lot like Ottawa, which should probably make me homesick but doesn't.

3. My cubicle is not a cubicle, it is a pod. Beam me up Scotty.

4. That your office is in an upscale neighbourhood and full of well-heeled professionals does not protect you from the theiving bastards who steal lunches from the communal fridge. Or ants in the lunchroom.

5. My kids won't die if I miss a school assembly. If it scars them for life, I can now afford to contribute to their therapy. In the meantime, I can assuage my guilt by purchasing their artwork from the school.

6. The week you start a new job in an environment you've never experienced before and begin commuting to unfamiliar territory is probably not the best time to agree to coordinate a superfluous event. With a committee. Of volunteers.

7. My accent is attractive to the Irish ear, even when they can see me.

8. Ireland is not the only beer-obsessed nation. See?

Welcome Aboard...

and let me show you to your very own cubicle! Here is your key card, also known as a fob; you must swipe it to enter all rooms except the bathroom. Big Brother is watching your every move and Big Sister will be reading your emails. Welcome to mainstream corporate culture, please leave your personality at the door.

This is your apparently unlimited budget and here is your full time administrative assistant. You have access to company vehicles, IT assistance and a bloke who will carry your boxes and set up rooms to your specs; just email someone in advance and it will all happen like magic. Do not break your back or a nail. Your job is to think on higher levels.

Holy shit folks, I think I may have died and gone to that special place called adulthood. Everything's a trade-off isn't it? At this point, I'm thinking there is a big lesson here for me... when I figure out what it is, I'll letcha know!