Back in Northern Ireland, my mother and sister Siobhan's weight loss has been continuing at an 'extremely satisfying rate'. Each now can boast a number of glittering black stones-each stone representing the loss of 7 pounds--in their jars. The journey has not been entirely worry free, however.
Mum's birthday fell on March 1st and, in addition to warning each of her offspring and grandchildren that she wanted 'no birthday cards with large numbers on them,' there was the dilemma of where exactly to celebrate the event. Watchful as a hawk about her calorie consumption, Mum (who's always been partial to a delicious meal out)proved extremely evasive when asked by Siobhan where she'd like to go for dinner. In the end, after much pressing, she said she preferred to stay at home and cook for everyone, but was told that was not an option. In great anguish about possibly going over her 'points' allowance, she agreed to go out to eat provided some kind of fresh fish was on the selected restaurant's menu. They went to a place called 'Rafters' in a neighboring town. On the actual night, Siobhan reported to me later, Mum's resistance was not up to snuff and she had a fillet steak and went over her allowance--mashed potatoes with lashings of butter (anything potato being an Irish Achilles heel) and a sherry trifle with whipped cream being the culprits--but did reign herself in next day by taking an additional walk in the woods, forgoing her morning porridge and reduced her supper portion size.
Siobhan's birthday fell on Monday but, according to Mum, unofficial celebrations had been ongoing for the entire preceding week. There were dinners-in and dinners-out. She's almost certain Siobhan will have to return a black stone at next Monday's public weigh-in and it matters not a bit whether my sister puts in hours on her exercise bicycle this coming Easter weekend as she threatens, but has decided it's wise to say nothing in the interim.
[technorati: Northern Ireland, Mothers, Sisters, Diets]