Weighed myself today – am starting the year a stone heavier than last year. Feel upset. Mind you, I feel I was dealt a cruel hand in the height department – I should be at least 7′ 2″ tall for my weight instead of the petite 5’4″ which is why it looks as if there is more of me than there actually is. If I was 7′ 2″ tall the body parts would be spread out considerably and there would be no need to feel like a Sumo wrestler’s ideal partner.
Looked lovingly at the remainder of the Christmas cake I made and tearfully and apologetically threw it in the bin, hoping it wouldn’t need counselling as a result of being so heartlessly rejected on New Year’s Day.
Knowing how low my resistance is to temptation and knowing that my will power is usually ‘won’t’ power, I put the bin bag straight into a black sack, which I then take up to the shed. Desperate times calls for desperate measures.
Felt slightly better with myself.
Decided to measure my body parts – prepared myself for another shock. Even Ruben’s voluptuous models look positively anorexic up against the boulder like proportions of my body parts. Feel upset.
Looked Lettuce in the eye for lunch. Lettuce gave a cheeky wink – feel hopeful. I celebrate my curvaceous body parts with Lettuce. Lettuce throws up – ‘Hey!’ he said, ‘let’s not overdo the swirling breasts routine!’
Put Cher’s fitness DVD on to watch. Cher is wearing a Band-Aid and dental floss and not much else. Feel upset. Cats walk into room and settle down to watch as I try to synchronise body parts to move in same direction and to stop moving when the music stops.
Garfield smiles his encouragement. Pats the sofa and beckons me to sit down and rest. All that exertion putting the DVD into the player has worn me out. Sit down and rest for a while.
Decide Lettuce was right and go back to fridge. Holding body parts in check as I bend over (so not to frighten other occupants of fridge) I tell Lettuce that he has a lunch date. Lettuce winks and alerts the tomatoes.
Weighed myself today. Have lost one whole pound. Wondered if it was because I plucked my eyebrows the night before or passed wind just before getting on the scales that helped. Felt slightly despondent at not having lost more than that.
Decide to begin exercises and look for trainers to show that I mean business.
Look in cupboard under stairs for step machine. It has one pink platform and one blue platform. Not sure why. Put it next to trainers and look at them for a couple of days psyching myself up to begin mindless exercises.
Wake up three days later and decide ‘today is the day’ and put on trainers and step onto pink and blue platforms with care. Made pact with myself to ‘step’ for 5 minutes. Think that should be enough for one day.
Look at clock – ten seconds have passed and having trouble motivating myself to continue. Only another 4 minutes and 50 seconds to go. Close eyes and think of holiday. Think of myself running through the edge of the sea, long slim legs and firm lithe torso. Nearly fall off step machine in excitement. Open eyes and look at clock. Another ten seconds have passed. Only another 4 minutes and 40 seconds to go.
Can’t see myself with long slim legs or firm lithe torso at this rate. Can’t see myself managing to stay on step machine for much longer than 30 seconds. Decide to practise some Spanish while on step machine. Lose balance, and nearly fall off again.
Two of my cats, Timmy and Billy, are sitting under the little sofa watching intently. I saw money change paws and think there is a bet on to see if I do manage to fall off. Either that or it’s to see if I actually manage to complete 5 minutes. Decide to call their bluff and continue even though legs hurt like crazy.
Finally, the five minutes are up. I’ve counted every second for the last 3 minutes. Legs are just about to give up. Wobble off the step machine and fall on floor. Give Timmy a high five! Billy skulks off having lost his bet.
The top half of body feels great, zingy and gorgeous. Legs feel like lead weights have been attached to them and won’t work. Have to sit down for an hour to recover. Later on that day, legs seize up completely and have to lie in bath massaging them. Decide to put step machine back in cupboard under stairs.
Weighed myself today. Have lost another pound! Not sure if it is because I shaved my legs or had my hair cut that helped. Feel disappointed not to have lost more.
Came across an old exercise LP. Put it on the player and listen to the instructions. Hold back of chair in dining room and start bouncing in time to the music. Have to stand with legs slightly apart and just do gentle bounces keeping upper body fairly erect.
Getting into the swing of it when there is a knock at the door. Find that I can’t straighten up properly. Walk up hallway like four feet five demented frog with haemorrhoids to greet bewildered postman clutching parcel for me.
‘Are you alright?’ he asks kindly, noting the new demented frog with haemorrhoids stature. Raising myself up as far as new demented frog with haemorrhoids stature will allow, I reply haughtily: ‘of course I’m alright, thank you for asking.’
Bewildered postman hands me the parcel. I back down hallway wondering if old me will be returning soon as have to go to shopping shortly. Don’t want to walk round Asda like a frog.
Decide to open parcel. Discover it’s a box of chocolates from friend to cheer me up. Switch off LP on player and open chocolates instead. Start to eat chocolates.
Not able to go to shopping later as I feel very sick.
Demented frog with haemorrhoids stature disappears as legs return to normal after frequent visits to the bathroom emptying stomach of chocolates. Strange how the contents of a reasonably small box can multiply and take forever to vacate the premises.
Decide never to eat chocolates again.
Decide not to do formal exercises again as they have adverse reaction on body parts. Decide, instead, to just make up own exercises as I go along to music.
Get out dance CD. Start doing high kicks. Foolishly, it turns out. The cats, all six of them, and little female cat from down the road, who is just visiting for her breakfast, are all sitting along the little sofa with saucepans on their heads for protection.
High kicks are getting out of hand. Discover a part of anatomy unknown to myself before – only discover it because it now hurts like crazy. Not sure whether to take myself to hospital for examination. Am put off by the explanation of what I was doing to receive such an injury in such an unknown place before. How would they x-ray such a place?
Decide doing high kicks or low kicks is not for me. Replace saucepans in rack and cats applaud wholeheartedly. They love me as I am – not bothered if I’m large or small – so maybe I shouldn’t worry about myself either.
Weighed myself today. Have lost one whole pound. Can’t decide if it’s because I cut my toe nails or trimmed my pubes that helped. Disappointed not to have lost more.
Decide on a new tactic. Got all the tins of food out of larder. Got scales out of bathroom. Placed the exact number of tins on scales to reflect excess body weight: 31 tins of cat food, 1 tin red kidney beans, 2 tins chopped tomatoes, 3 small tins butter beans, 2 tins soup (for 1), 5 tins of pink salmon, 1 small tin of pineapple rings and 2 tins of tuna flakes. 47 tins = 3 stones.
Tower of tins stands 22″ from floor to highest tin – confirming what I’ve known all along. I am vertically challenged. If I were 7’ 2″ I would be perfect!
Decide to fill 3 shopping bags with tins each representing 1 stone to lose. I could hardly lift all three bags. Then I could hardly hold the bags for more than a minute.
I realise the implication with startling clarity. I am carrying around the equivalent of small person daily. No wonder I’m always tired. I put all the tins away in larder again. Decide small person will have to find another host to cart it around. Vow to try harder.
Weighed myself today. Have lost TWO whole pounds. Wondered if it was the humongous fart I did five minutes earlier or because I held my boobs up in the air that helped. Disappointed not to have lost more.
Go up to back bedroom where I have books on every subject under the sun. Look out all dieting books. Didn’t realise I had so many! Thirty-three books lie on floor. I sit on floor and look at each book. Feel tired.
Lie down and fall asleep. Wake up to couple of cats lying next to myself. Diet books still open at various pages of helpful tips and advice. I’m now starving. Go downstairs and decide to have slimming meal.
Look in larder. Don’t feel like anything. Do two slices of cheese and tomatoes on toast. Will start again tomorrow. Long slim legs and firm lithe torso can wait another day.