Did Humpday come a day early?

Am I suffering from PMT or something?

Today I seem to be as down as I was up yesterday. I feel logey and grouchy and detached and quite frankly pissy. As in, 'don't fuck with me, you fucking fuckwitted fucker'. Which is so not me.

Aherm...

On the plus side: lost 3 and a half pounds this week, so only half a pound of the Christmas excess baggage to get rid of. One pound to go and I will have equalled the point I'd reached two classes before Christmas. Bah humbug!

I saved some points so I could have chocolate this evening too. Not making me feel much better, really.

I knew it was a mistake to do this. I saw an e-mail message in Himself's inbox (calm down - he was checking his e-mail at the time and I was in the room talking to him and he actually brought my attention to it). Anyway, this message was from one of his really good mates (the one who's helping him buy the engagement ring and is doing a reading at the wedding and being an usher). It was about this tv programme that was on last week about bariatric surgery and the risks and side-effects and it had really worried him.

Well, they don't call me a muppet for no reason. I watched the bloody thing thanks to Telewest's Teleport Replay option. Apart from managing that most incredible of feats of being both boring and at the same time sensationalist, it had little relevance to the procedure Himself will shortly be having. Our GP is totally on board and is committed to his aftercare 100%, she's been amazingly supportive. The surgeon who will do the procedure will be operating at a private hospital with the best of facilities, but the NHS is paying. The surgeon is one of the top men in the field in the UK, if not the top man. He's never lost a patient yet, and with every procedure he says they learn more and more so the risk of complications is decreasing all the time.

It still worries the bejeebers out of me though.