Endgame.
Th-th-th-th-that's all folks!! This is it, the last day if the diet, and it feels good. I even do a few sit ups in the morning before my shower.. not easy, but I guess in the words of tesco,'every little helps'. I feel a bit like a prisoner who is finally being released back ino the outside world. A world of chocolate, booze and fry ups.
There's a certain buzz about me today.. and it's not the gusset of my new pants. I revel in letting people in work know that it's my last day, as if they didnt know anyway. Whereas at the start of the diet I got tired of people asking about it, now I am more than happy to let people know what is happening. I'm chirpy, I'm cracking jokes.. Old Huw is back!
The weather is spectacularly good today so I take a lunchtime walk down to liverpool street to watch a select few business types from the city playing netball.. it's mostly women playing, hence my interest, plus one or 2 guys who have probably very cleverly worked out that one way of getting in these womens knickers is to play netball with them.. unless of course the women are particularly sly and decide they want to have sex with a man who DOESNT play netball.. a notoriosly female game..
But I digress..
These daily walks are part of my new plan to keep myself in shape. Not only will it burn up a few calories, but it'll break up the day too. As I said.. every little helps.. On the way to the netball I get myself 2 fruit salads from a remarkably small 'pret a manger' by liverpool street station. It's amazing how these companies will try and wedge a business into the smallest gaps if they think they can sell a few baguettes from it.. I have found the fruit salads to be one of the more mouth watering options on the diet. It satisfies my sweet tooth, plus doesnt have egg or tomatoes in it... a sure fire winner if you ask me. I forget to get a plastic fork from the guy behind the counter, and so have to use my hands to pick the fruit out. It doesnt bother me, but I am aware that I must look like some sort of shaved orangutan to the suits sat around me..
As I walk back to work I vow to go jogging the coming weekend.. I'll look like a twat but after the fortnight I've had I don't care..
Back in work it occurs to me that my face is so stubbly I could probably light a match on it, (like desperate dan in 'the dandy'.. which gets me thinking.. what exactly was 'Dan' so desperate for? I summise probably a shit after eating all those massive cow pies..) This annoys me because I had a shave this morning, and this just confirms that I am completely shit at it. In the adverts the chisel jawed studs always get faces as smooth as polished glass in one clean stroke.. (and then some gorgeous girl appears, touches his newly shaved skin, smiles and then kisses it.. I feel cheated by Gillette.. where's my smily face touching girl?!?) but it seems to take me more strokes than a pensioners gymnasium. (tasteless joke.. sorry) I have to shave down, up, across, diagonally.. I have a positively unshavable face, and when you're constantly dragging a razor blade across your face and neck it will ultimately cause a little irratation.. leaving my neck feeling like the braille version of 'war and peace'..
Luckily the gods are smiling on me today. Minimal damage..
Bizarrely, later that evening, I am faced with the toughest moment of the whole 2 weeks with regards temptation.. I meet Kelly and Cheese in a pub on Holloway Rd for a pint, (my pint being water.. ) and halfway through, kelly (who incidentally turns up looking dead cool.. his new girlfriend has transformed him from looking like a choirboy into a proper rock star.. and I like it!) decides to order some nachos. What you have to understand at this point is I LOVE nachos.. and therefore I spend most of the night drooling and fidgetting nervously.. made even worse when he can't finish them and has to leave them in front of me.. I am literally squirming, I want them SO much.. and my nightmare is only eased when the barwoman takes the plate away. It's amazing to think I am facing my biggest challenge only 2 hours before the day officially ends..
I get home and relax in bed, trying to forget about the nachos, but it's hard. I look over at the bedside clock.. 12.30pm... technically, I think to myself, I could go and get a kebab..
I don't. Instead, I fall asleep clutching a fictional gold medal, and I enjoy my last night as a navy commando..
It's over.