Its official

I am fat.

I have been pretending for months that it is just cuddly. That being slightly over weight is OK.
I can no longer do up my zips and buttons on my pants.

Enough.

It is not cuddly and it is not cool.

I have been cycling for months to no avail.

Andreas tells me, with a really straight face, that I need to stop the wine.

STOP THE WINE.

Does he know that the wine is what keeps me sane. Does he know that the wine stops me from stabbing him repeatedly when he annoys me at night.
Wonder if he has considered that the girls may leave home if the wine is gone.
What of the dogs who don't listen to me, will they survive this lack of the mood stabiliser?

I looked in the mirror.

The wine has to go.

Life is sooooo not fair.

I stopped smoking 6 months ago and now my wine must also go.
I will have no more vices.

How boring . For me. Maybe not for those who have the misfortune of living with me.

But damn , I just can't be so cuddly that the zips and buttons can't be closed anymore, and I will not go up another size.

I refuse.

So - with tears in my eyes.

I begin the mourning for my close friend.
Goodbye wine.