Unlike Sarah’s beatific week, I am currently wearing a bad devil outfit comprised of red tights, a leotard and horns on a hair-band. I probably have a plastic pitch fork too.
I have stuffed my face. I have also drunk alcohol every single night. Not in huge quantities, but alcohol none the less. I’ve also been making deals and empty promises with my running schedule, and now in order to catch up, I can’t have a rest day until Wednesday.
In other news the security guard at work asked if I was pregnant yesterday. This is the second time in 6 months this has happened to me. Can everyone just quit asking if I’m pregnant. Despite self effacing blog entries, I’m relatively confident that I don’t actually look pregnant. From now on I’m going to pre-empt the question by walking round constantly smoking, and eating from a wheel of brie. Grrrrr.
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