refuse to diet

My weight has gone up and down a fair bit in the last 6 months, since I’ve been at university. I didn’t gain the “fresher’s 15”, those legendary 15 lbs that a new student puts on due to discovering beer and takeaway… I guess that’s the advantage of already having lived independently – and having my halls up a killer hill.
When I say up and down, though, I mean within the “safe” 7lb range. Not too high so I get depressed about it, and not too low that I start encouraging myself to lose more weight.

I’m getting sort of fat, in my standards anyway. On any other girl it’s a cute tummy; on me it’s disgusting and must go.
I’m not going to have a “real” diet, just stop drinking so much beer (which means more gin and tonic) and swapping my cake for fruit for a while… not a diet, a “diet”.

Summer is coming and bikini bodies are IN. Oh yes.
This year I will not cut down on my consumption of tea, bread, and chocolate. Instead I shall refuse to wear skimpy pieces of fabric masquerading as “swimwear” and wear mens’ swimming trunks instead.