Gutted

Morale is at an all-time low. I went to the gym yesterday for my personal combat training session. All went very well until after I changed and showered I glanced at the electronic weight scale. I put in my 20p and stood on the thing and gasped.

Now you must understand, I've spent the last 2-3 months going to the gym four-five times per week. I've been watching my weight and what I eat and even though I haven't always been successful at controlling calories, I like to think that I've made a decent effort. My buttocks are firmer and my calves are starting to get hard. My forearms are like iron.

But the scale seemed to suggest something else. The hateful thing spewed out:

25 stone 10 lb.

WHAT?! That's impossible. That's 360 lbs! How on earth could I have ever gotten that heavy? I don't _feel_ this heavy.

I got home and collapsed in a teary, sobbing heap in Husband's arms. Poor Husband, he doesn't think I'm unhealthy or ugly or unsexy but I've never felt lower. He's also put on a little bit of weight himself... there's more or less a semi-permanent tyre around his waist and he wants to do something about it. It's slowly accumulated over the course of four years (when I met him in August 2001 his tummy was relatively flat).

This is horrid. I hate diets and do NOT want to try something ultra stressful and strict. What am I going to do?

Oooh, telephone!