If I breathe in, my hip bones become sharp instruments of torture and I can count 5 of my ribs. Good times. No idea how much weight i’ve lost. I’m barely wearing clothes, but my bikinis don’t seem to have become significantly roomier. It may just be the expulsion of 3lbs of impacted fecal matter that’s flattened my stomach. Huzzah! The Big Weigh is tomorrow as I’m leaving before Sandi gets in on Sunday morning. I don’t even really care how much I’ve lost, although I definitely want to better Shaz’s 6lb loss, if only so I can prove my Mars Bar theory. I’m def going to get through this realtively unscathed and that’s the main thing. And I’ve had the opportunity to say a final goodbye to 30 years’ worth of dinners. People tell stories about finding whole chunks of steak or whatever but I’m yet to produce anything remotely identifiable. Probably a good thing: I might get nostalgic.
As of 2 nights ago, I have been balancing my laptop on my knees and watching Mad Men during my colonics. This helps them go far quicker. I’m still delighted with the outcome, but 2 litres of coffee followed by 5 litres of water can get a little tedious without entertainment. Hoping that a lizard starts racing around the ceiling to distract you is a little more rustic than I care to rely on.
The weirdest development is that I’ve found myself constantly having impure thoughts for the last 24 hours. No-one said anything about this being a side-effect and it’s probably one that I’m not going to run by Sandi. Meditation today went from the usual Nap Time to Dirty Story Jackanory. They say food can be a substitute for sex, maybe I’m channeling my food deprivation into depravity instead. Or maybe it’s just The Draper Effect.
Other than this, life trundles on as usual. Charlotte is staying for 12 days so is now just past her halfway point. She’s worried about how she’ll get on once I’m gone – we have really helped each other through, time flies in the steam room when you’re swapping tales of Dirtbags You Have Known – but I think she’ll be fine. She’s super-focused. A new guest arrives the day I leave. All we know is that her name is Vanessa. I keep telling Charlotte that it’s going to be Vanessa Feltz. I’d love to see her in action up that hill. But for now we just spend our days out in the sun whilst a staff of 7 (!) ensure that our detoxes run smoothly. I feel like Richard Branson – but can guarantee that my colon is cleaner than his.
The boys (John and Morten) swung by today, bless them. They were touring Koh Samui on motorbikes so thought they’d stop in and offer moral support. We mainly wanted details of what they’d eaten so far. We exchanged emails before they left the last time and I genuinely hope we’ll stay in touch. If only so I can find out why John’s suddenly started wearing a wedding ring. How long have they been gone exactly?!
Right. Last day beckons. Only another 24 hours for a nest of tapeworms to fall out of my arse. Keep your fingers crossed for me…
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