I can't stop hating

Cross with myself, got on the scales Saturday morning, after a particularly good week dieting and exercising I thought, to find my weight had stubbornly remained tantalisingly close, but not actually on, my target weight. How could this be, I asked myself, stripping off my socks and removing my pyjama bottoms in an effort to shed additional grams. Naked, shivering and with tears stinging my eyes, I stepped off the scales and went back to bed.
Depression was my normal state of mind before I started remodelling my body, but for the last few weeks I’ve been fairly upbeat, “chipper” almost, but for the rest of Saturday, I sunk into a spiral of sausage roll, flapjack, biscuit eating topped off nicely that evening with a bottle of red wine.
Pathetic isn’t it?…I’m ashamed of myself, for losing it and throwing my toys out of the pram at the first setback. It’s out of my system now and I can move on, end of February, new target weight, or I'm a Frenchman.