So, in the sense of “so” I suppose, I’ve been trying to collect my wee all day today. Two things are apparent:

1. My aim is poor
2. I’ve not had enough to drink today

I know number 2 is true because my collection is brown, rather than yellow. Maybe I should dilute it a bit to make it look more normal. Maybe that would be the most idiotic thing I could do.

Hopefully I just have one more collection to go and I’ll be able to take the piss (ha ha ha) into the hospital tomorrow morning. I say hopefully one more collection because I really don’t want to be doing that palaver in the middle of the night.

The whole thing hasn’t been as traumatic as I’d imagined and I’ve managed to get through the day without weeing on myself any more than I usually do.

Go me.

Hunger
I’ve not been hungry today, despite eating about a fifth of what I normally would. This includes eating only one minty Viscount at Mum and Dad’s as opposed to the five or six that I’d normally demolish. Go me again.

The one concern about this new eating regime is: how does the chew each mouthful twenty times before swallowing apply to soup? Since I’m now doing soup for lunch on a regular basis, this is something that I really need to know. Am I supposed to swish it around in my mouth twenty times as one would taste a wine? If I do this, will I get confused and spit instead of swallow? In addition, what about stuff like fruit? Do I really need to sit down at the table and put my cutlery down between each mouthful when I’m eating an apple? I think I might contact Paul McKenna to find out.

Irrespective of these quandaries, day one of hypnotised Tina has been fine. I really enjoyed my dinner tonight and I really did feel satisfied having eaten about a fifth of what I’d normally have guzzled.

And I’m doing this without counting calories or points or worrying too much about fat content or paying a subscription fee to a diet club. Because it’s not a diet I suppose, it’s effectively a new relationship with food.

How do I approach a burrito from now on? Surely there’s only one way to tackle a burrito and that’s to shove as much in your gob as possible before the whole thing falls apart. We’ll see.

This questioning of lifestyle change is very much akin to how things were when I gave up drinking so many years ago. What about my 30th birthday? What about going out for drinks after work? What about Christmas and New Year? What do I do if somebody offers me a drink?? It all turned out to be remarkably easy as it happened, I just asked for pop and told people that I didn’t want to drink any more. Some people were fucking arseholes about it, but the vast majority just accepted it as I had done. The pressure on people to drink alcohol in social situations is utterly ridiculous, society needs to grow the fuck up.

Idiot
I e-mailed my ex this morning. Something in me hopes she sends me straight to spam, but you know how it is when there’s something eating you up inside and you just feel compelled to get it off your chest? Well, short of driving to Derbyshire to find her and have it out with her, then ending up a blubbering wreck instead of a strong and forthright person with a valid argument and lots of pointy hand gestures, this was the best option.

The upshot of it is, if the e-mail doesn’t go to delete unread, she knows I’m desperate for revenge (answers, closure), but I’m not going to do anything about it, however, I’ll be starting to reduce my dose of antidepressants starting next month.

That’ll keep her on her toes.

I shall now toss and turn and metaphorically punch myself in the head for two hours while I try to find sleep.

I thank you.