Braveheart

I'm SO good at it. Procrastinating, that is. Actually, I think I'd go as far as to say I'm a bit of an expert. That's why I only got round to weighing in a few days ago - for the first time since mid Dec.

'You've put on 4lb Tubster!' mocked Chardonnay. (What? Your scales don't have a name?)

Me: 'Hey, that's not bad at all, considering. That means I'm 14.10lb again. Waistband's a bit snugger than it was in December, but I expect that. Yup, I can live with that.'

Inner Bitch: 'You lazy trollope. You let yourself go. You think you can lose weight slowly and not count calories, go on holiday, eat jam donuts and mock the dieting fraternity. Who do you think you are?'

Me: 'I think I'm me, and bloomin lucky to be me, come to think of it. Didn't you catch the wave of loony January magazines promising miracle celeb-promoted regimes? Every year it's the same old rubbish. No wonder there's an obesity epidemic. Diets make you fat - especially the quick fix ones.'

Inner Bitch: 'Suit yourself, loser. But I'll be back. You need me.'

And in a funny way, I do. IBs never going to quit. I expect she'll pop up and grace me with her doom, gloom and cynicism, not to mention appalling dress sense, till the day I die.

But I'm getting more cunning in my old age. I may procrastinate, lapse, and fall off the wagon of health regularly, but I will never, ever again succumb to a diet.

You heard me IB, you can hide the donuts if you like, but you'll never take my FREEDOM!

AHHHHHHHHHHH!