Or should it be lipocide? Bit tricky this, blogging from the floor of the gym, waiting for my legs to return from wherever it is they’ve gone, wondering how much sweat I can lose before I turn into a stock cube.
On the plus side though, I’ve achieved my exercise goal for today. Eight hundred calories… killed! It helps me to think of calories anthropomorphically, so I can murder them like so many smurves (one smurf – many smurves).
Actually, while we’re being scientific, they’re kilocalories, so it was really eight hundred thousand smurves, which is almost a million.
I should get a medal. A chocolate one.
Now I’m back on the road to fitness (which passes through the village of pain and the small town of ‘what the hell was I thinking with all that cheese?’) I have become obsessed with such dietary nuances as the complexity of my carbohydrates. Sugar lumps look pretty complicated to me, all those tiny bits all glued together, so I’ll be eating handfuls of those until my trousers fit again.