I absolutely love book stores and stationary shops. I'm like a pig in shit when I enter them.
Today I had some time before a meeting and I walked into my little piece of heaven. Estoril Books. There's nothing like the smell of fresh pages, the cracking of the spine when you open a book for the first time and the new words and world it invites you into. I really love reading. Admittedly I prefer fiction as it's my way to escape from the world. I create pictures in my mind of the characters and basically create my own mental movie. I love it.
I heard about a book called: Skinny Bitch by Rory Freedman and Kim Barnouin. It's a "no-nonsense, tough-love guide for savvy girls who want to stop eating crap and start looking fabulous!"
I put that in the basket along with 2 James Patterson best sellers.
I could have stayed in the store for hours, but my stomach started growling.
I stopped at a quaint little coffee shop, complete with the lovely coffee bean aroma and fairy lights. I ordered my latte and blueberry cheesecake and started going through my book selection.
It was only when I took my first mouthful of the scrumptious cheesecake that I realised how ironic life can be sometimes. Here I am (and I'm convinced I'm the only one in the world who has this done this) eating cheesecake reading: Skinny Bitch.
I felt guilty! I immediately dropped the book down on the table so no one else could see the cover and looked like a fugitive suddenly crouching down low, scoffing the cheesecake (every. last. crumb) and shifting my eyes around the room to see if anyone else picked up on the irony.
Good grief! The book is excellent though! In half an hour I'd read 59 pages and I feel shit scared to drink soda (liquid Satan, as they call it), sugar or sweetners and milk. I'm scared to go on, but honestly it's excellent and it makes A LOT of sense.
I felt so guilty, I blew the dust off my gym card and entered through the daunting doors. I have officially signed up for 4 personal training sessions to get me started and so that I can learn what I need to do with all that scary equipment.
PS. I ordered the cheesecake as the last bit of crap I shovel into my mouth for a while, until I get down to the weight I'd like, then I can spoil myself every now and then.
(This was actually more for me than you, to justify my guilty little pleasure.)