Put the pizza down!

I should really write this on my other ‘fat-fighting’ blog, but I’m ashamed to do so. That particular blog is steadily picking up followers, many of whom I’m sure are also deeply embroiled in their own battle of the bulge, and so I would feel a tad guilty admitting to what I’m about to.

A few days ago I made a commitment to making a serious effort to combat the pork. I wanted to drop, I forget now, maybe 10lb in two weeks. A tall order for anyone I reckon, but I confidently said ‘yep, no problem. I’ll be thin as a rake in no time at all.’ Then it occurred to me that I’ve made this same promise, or variations of it so many times that it’s getting a bit dull now. I simply like food too much.

I’ve been off work for most of the week. An accumulation of untaken leave has forced my hand to stay at home and take the leave else I risk losing it.

One good thing about this is that I’ve been able to stave off boredom by getting back into reading and writing. A bad thing about this is that I’m just sitting at home with my head in a book and my hand on a pie, or a sandwich. Furthermore, come the evening, which is traditionally my weakest time, I like to have a tipple of wine too. The problem right now is that I haven’t been out today to get myself tonights bottle. So, for the past half hour, I’ve contemplated going out to the local coop which is only five minutes drive and buying myself a bottle. Then I remembered there is a pizza takeaway place on the same street. I could stop there and order my pizza, then while it cooks I could go get my wine. If I left now I’d probably be home by half eight and catch the second half the football (Chelsea Vs Man Utd).

I know I shouldn’t… but the soul is weak… the pizza is sooooo good.

Should I stay or should I go?

Author: Mark S Thompson

Okay, so these things are kind of hit and miss. If you’re reading this then I am thankful to you for taking the time out of your day to do so. I’ll be honest, when I think of myself as a writer, I kinda cringe. Don’t get me wrong, it is the dream, it's​ just I never really believe it will go anywhere. When I think back to the day that I first knew I loved writing, and I mean really knew, I see myself sitting in an English lesson at secondary school. The school was called Wrotham and is in the county of Kent, England. As far as I know, it's still there. English was far and away my favourite subject. The best bit was when the teacher gave the class a selection of words and asked us to make up a story that either contained those words or was about those words, you know. At other times we would be given the first sentence and then write what happens next. Good times. Many times my work would reflect what I had recently read and it would be okay. Nothing special, just okay. On one occasion though I wrote about a merman called Finchy and can remember going into so much depth and detail about him and the underwater kingdom he lived in. I really enjoyed writing that and it must have shown because my teacher commented on it. She was really impressed and loved the story. That was it for me, my moment. Now when I write I think back to those great times and to that story. Hopefully, I’ll write something that you, the reader, will be moved to comment on. For me, there is no greater elixir View all posts by Mark S Thompson