Friday, February 23, 2007

Flase economy fatty (it's lent!)

Ahhhh, I love Lent above and beyond any other religious festivities.Seriously, I love it.This year, to proceed Lent, I have enjoyed gorging myself with as much shite I can shovel down my throat in anticipation, knowing that my plansfor this year's lent would involve me abstaining from alcohol,chocolate, cheese and crisps. In essence it is an excuse for me to goon a bit of a health kick, without having to suffer the indignity ofsaying "I'm on diet". Thus far it's gone reasonably well, having gorged myself on fruit for the last few days.

Of course lent is only three days old. Lisa found the notion of going sans booze hilarious and absurd, but asI quite reasonably pointed out to her, it is my duty as a Catholic. Ofcourse she was quick to point out that I don't go to mass and that I'vedone little else to promote the impression that I am a devotee of thefaith. To reassure her of my intentions, I've proceeded in covering mostof our pictures with a purple cloths, (well tea towels actually andthey're not purple). Anyway, this morning I received a rude awakening after weighing myselfdiscovering that I'm nearly 1 and a half stone heavier than I thought!Granted it has given me a stronger resolve to continue with my quest,however I do fel foolish that I have set up a false economy in this regards i.e. put on weight only to lose it again.

1 comment:

markwoff said...

Hey God boy
I've ceased alcohol and coffee for Lent, and I'm not even a Catholic. It seemed like a good opportunity/excuse... also going well. Some colleagues are suggesting that I've become much grumpier even than normal at work, but I'm pointing out that this is due to my seeing work unfiltered by substances, and have realised how awful it is.

Apparently, Lenten fasting also stems from agricultural need, in that we're a bit 'between crops' at this time of the year. Or we were, before the days of GM crops, foil-wrapped fields and greenhouses the size of Wiltshire.

I love that word 'besmooches', which suggests besmirch mixed with unwelcome kisses from a scabrous uncle/aunty at a wedding.