It’s summer.
You know what that means? That means shorts. And skirts. And short things. And bikinis. And all those other things which fill me with dread.
Bitching on the email to a male friend of mine (as is my wont) we decided to place a “I can lose more weight than you by the start of the rugby season” bet.
So here are the rules:
1. Weigh self
2. Establish how much you think you can lose before 1st September (7 weeks)
3. Lose it
At the end of the bet, if you’re under your goal weight loss, you pay a tenner per pound to the other person (or to a charity of their choice). If you’re over your goal weight loss you get to gloat.
Anyone else in? I could certainly use the moral support.
Right now? I’m off to the gym. Seriously.
1st if Sept? How far away is that? Hmmm. I may be in, yes.
ok, I’m going to go for 10lb. I will shed 10 big fat pounds by 1st Sept.
Hoorah!
I too, want to shed at least 10 pounds by then. Preferably sooner!
It’s probably not very healthy to do it sooner so why don’t we start with the 7 week deadline for now and see how we get on?
I’d like to say yes but i have zero motivation to lose weight and i need to lose about double that
Well, why not make a start at least? Come on… we’re all mates here.
go on then – starting monday though as i’m having a big cricket weekend which will involve fish and chips and much drinking
What’s the plan?
I would join in with this. Except I’m not very good at (a) dieting and (b) weighing myself. There’s nothing like being actually pleased with your reflection in the mirror (for once) and then reading your weight from a set of scales and wanting to cry.
But good luck with your weight loss – hope you beat your mate
Not a chance. I’m still at the plump-and-moaning-about-it-without-action stage and will be there for, oooh, a good while yet.
Now, oooh, wine and pizza for dinner tonight?
(Actually, I am having egg and green beans but that doesn’t sound massively unhealthy. What it does sound like is a bit of an odd combination, but I can assure you it’s actually REALLY yummy).
Am I allowed to put weight on?!
No – lard arse.
cheeky cow.
I managed to find the only puddle in my town last night during running training – mud up to my knees, it was ace!!
You’re really just a 12 year old boy, aren’t you?
12?! That’s pushing it, I’m thinking may be 4 or 5. I still have my plastic dinosaurs…..
*pats on head*
And here you are, the more grown up of the two of us. There’s a depressing thought.