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March 4, 2008 at 7:27 am Tidying up the pastNow that Sally has made me think about phentermine’s side effects and has been so kind as to thrust one of their leaflets into my hand, I feel I ought to read it more carefully. I know I must have read it way back when. After all, what idiot would just start taking a medication like phentermine (or Acomplia, for that matter) without reading all about it? So I must gave skimmed through it (them if you count the same kind of folded up notes supplied with Acomplia) but, for some reason, none of it seems to have stuck. |
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February 28, 2008 at 3:16 am Hindsight is wonderful unless you’re walking behind someone overweightSo my new friend Sally, who has rapidly moved up from friend-of-a-friend into drop-round-anytime friend, called in last night and read through the last two posts. I’ve started to trust her because she’s sharing my experience with phentermine, but she’s a lot more thoughtful than I am. I’m an Aries which means I just tend to do or say things as they come to me and not think about them too much. She’s more head-over-heart which I suppose makes her a Libra. Must ask her about her birthday. |
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February 27, 2008 at 12:24 am Walkers of the world unite, you have nothing to lose but your poundsNow that I’m writing these pieces, it’s turning into a kind of diary — Confessions of a Loser. Weight Loss on Phentermine and Acomplia. I kept a diary when |
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February 26, 2008 at 9:33 am She’s under starter’s ordersWell, we’re calm again. I’m back on the Acomplia now — get thee behind me, phentermine, for another two months. |
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February 25, 2008 at 3:06 am Only one more day to goThere are always ironies in life, or perhaps all life is an irony that makes God smile — an inconsistency between what He expected from the Creation and what actually occurred. Ah, such are the thoughts that provoke us when the late-night film on the TV is one of those straight-to-DVD epics that can only be shown on terrestrial channels when all sane people have gone to bed. Who’d be a night owl when the public library is closed and you can’t pop round to borrow the next few unread tomes from the shelves. |
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February 22, 2008 at 12:15 pm My grandmother knew what she was talking aboutMy grandmother, as a good Victorian, was brought up in a household run with Mrs Beaton’s Book of Household Management as the bible. She always swore, but in a most refined way, that good food meant real food. The supply chain was shorter in those days. You never lived far away from the farms where the cattle grazed or the corn ripened. The milk was fresh from the cow, the butter freshly churned, the bread freshly baked using whole grains (they were lucky enough not to get caught up in the fashion for milling the corn into white flour with all the nutritional problems that caused), and the meat from animals hung after being freshly slaughtered. As one of the middle classes, she lived on a reasonably healthy diet of protein, bread, potatoes and other fresh vegetables. If she hadn’t had to decant her body into one of those boned corsets that made it impossible to breathe properly and redistributed her internal organs, her life would have been perfect. Although, looked at from another direction, forcing such a narrow waist was a first version of this new wrap-an-elastic-band-round-your-stomach-so-you-can’t-eat-as-much surgery we hear so much about these days. |
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February 19, 2008 at 4:18 am What do my teeth have to do with this?My new friend and I (that’s the old friend-of-a-friend who’s been upgraded — a bit like these new game machines, she’s gone from 1.0 prototype to 3.0 mature-in-the-market best seller in record time) were chatting on the phone last night. She was laughing because I’d written, “. . .at my time of time.” Did that mean we were, “Women of a certain age”? |
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February 18, 2008 at 3:29 am Something more than nostalgiaWhen I came home from my walk last night, my husband pulled a bottle of white wine from the fridge. Before I could say, “What a nice idea”. He had me sitting down with a glass in my hand and a small plate of nibbles in the other. |
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February 8, 2008 at 1:40 am That friend-of-a-friendIt’s most strange but I’m feeling more thoughtful today. Looking back is a strange experience sometimes. You see a snapshot of yourself. That was the “me” who wrote that way back when — even though it’s only a few weeks, it’s sometimes hard to recognize yourself. |
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February 5, 2008 at 8:02 am Accused!Well, here I sit in front of my screen accused of misleading all you good people. Naturally, all my family and friends have been reading these pieces and they all give me feedback. They’re all supposed to say encouraging things, but one friend-of-a-friend (someone I barely know) has asked a pointed question or two. |
