Muffin topped flubber butt

Oh crap. Crap crap crap. That's it. I am going to join a gym...

... Ok maybe not join the gym. It's bloody expensive and I'm saving up for the house move. But I'm definitely going to start jogging at lunch times...

... Although it IS autumn and it's getting very drizzly out and I'm starting a new role so might not really have time to jog at lunch. Plus being all sweaty and hot and bothered in meetings isn't attractive. Maybe I'll just do some crunches at home each night...

Oh who am I kidding. Ill do a few half hearted leg extensions and about 20 crunches, whilst surfing facebook on my phone, lying in bed, and that will be the extent of my attempt to lose my remaining baby weight. But seriously I NEED to lose my last 1/2lb. Today on the way home, a girl actually OFFERED me her seat. Either I look haggard and on verge of collapse, or about 4 months pregnant. Neither are particularly flattering. I am horrified that my new shift dress apparently does not mask the disgusting whale blubberage that is muffin-topping over the top of my tights. I'm distraught. 

Ok. I'm not really distraught. Think I've been reading too much Bridget Jones and have turned into a total drama queen with an internal monologue that seems much funnier in my head than on paper. But I AM horrified. God. Must. Lose. Weight. Maybe the daily slices of chocolate Swiss roll after dinner and laughing cow cheese triangles (with a hint of blue cheese no less!) are partly to blame. And therefore, hubs is partly to blame... for buying said Swiss rolls every week (regardless of intention, which was actually well meaning peace offering). Come to think of it, I think Great British Bake Off has a lot to answer for too. I mean, really, who can watch an hour of competitive baking and not end up hankering for a fresh cream and creme patisserie filled chocolate ganache glazed profiterole stack or a slice of 8 stranded milk loaf smothered in butter. 

Mmm... baked goods..... Gah! Ok strict diet with no crap and no junk from tonight. 

Actually. From tomorrow. We've no food in the fridge and tescos isn't coming til tomorrow night so I'm going to order takeaway. 

God this isn't going well. Sad face. Blub.