on health

Today consisted of baked potatoes---one for lunch, one for dinner--- and seeded toast with hazelnut spread.

It involved saying no to the Easter counter in the newsagents and the leftover birthday cake* at home. (But yes, yes please to a little dark, mint chocolate square).

And then there was the chapped hand, cold face, sore lipped walk to the train station, when I could so easily have taken the bus. (I walked past it. Twice).

And maybe, just maybe, my evening will finish off with a little work-out in front of the TV just before bed. (I cannot profess to be good at this. I cannot profess to move my body in the way demanded of me or to complete the rep with the determination it deserves. This is something, I hope, it will teach me---a love, a want, an enjoyment of exercise).

I cannot promise anything to my body---I can only try.

Today was a start---a half-laid, half-etched footprint, really. And please excuse the girliness or the vanity of this. But here provides permanence to my will-power and words to will, to spur, to accelerate onwards.

*My birthday celebrations officially ended last night with a few friends and a bowling alley. I lost, poorly, but it was fun. And, of course, there was cake.