This weekend will be the last one that I get to spend with Jason in five months. At this time in exactly seven days time, I'm going to be at the airport with him and his family, most likely trying not to bawl and make myself look like an idiot. Smack bang in the middle of that? Is my 23rd birthday.

It's not a particularly eventful number of years. It's not like I even have anything particularly exciting planned. Heck, I'll be busy teaching here at school, just like any other week day. But hopefully there will be an evening out of some kind, because going out for birthday dinners is one of my favourite things to do. Ever.

Food! Cake! Drinks! PRESENTS. What could be better?

After working so bloody hard over the past few months to keep my eating healthy and my fitness up, all I want to do is get out there and enjoy a dinner without thinking about what I put into my mouth. [In a non gross way, you dirty, dirty people.] Sadly, I know this won't happen though, as I have an all or nothing approach to eating when I start thinking about food too much. I either turn into an obsessive compulsive calorie counter and analyse everything, OR I just dive in and binge, blowing everything out of the water. It's not a good place to be in, and I'm trying my best to get out of that mindset, but it's harder than it sounds.

I wish I had a flag that I could wave on special occassions, a get-out-of-jail free card if you will, that blocked all the fat and sugar and bad stuff from clinging on to my legs and belly and butt the second I indulge in a little splurge. Who do you think I need to speak to about this? I'll take that as a birthday present anyday of the week.