Six reasons I’ve decided to lose weight:
1/ My pants are taking up too much space on the airer, a whole rail pretty much unless applied vertically. The old slinkys of the past never took that much space and had the added advantage of being small enough to be wrapped over the airer’s side bars like a couple of shoe laces.
2/ I’d like to bend down without my trousers randomly unzipping themselves, only to be told repeatedly my trousers are undone by Tony (husband). I am clearly an above average bender as it happens a lot.
3/ My stomach arrives to all destinations a few minutes before the rest of me, it’s like driving a bendy bus. It would be nice to arrive together.
4/ I’d like to be able to reach up for the yogurts on the top shelves in Waitrose without my jacket ripping ever again! Yes lady looking at the butter, that rip sound was me!
5/ I’d like the self control of not always being the first to dip into the second layer of Milk Tray, always to be asked by my husband, ‘Jeez, you on the second layer already’?
6/ I have gall stones and apparently it’s because I have the ‘4 fs’ attributed to gall bladder issues…1/ forty, 2/ fat…and I stopped listening at 2. That was quite enough thanks, though I’m pretty sure one of the fs might be fucked!
With the diet decision made, I did what all dieters do. I binged. For me, that meant driving to Tescos and getting a smoked cheese sausage and a chocolate orange. It doesn’t matter I can’t taste. It’s cheese and it’s chocolate.
Sausage and orange secured, I went and got back in my car and started to drive forward out of my space. A large 4 x 4 started reversing and there was a near crash. I honked my horn. Of course, this was to warn him, as another road user, of my presence. Not because I thought he was a dick or because I was projecting my stress at currently having no job. Of course not, just one driver, helping out another according to the highway code.
The other driver seemed to accept this warning signal and went into Tescos. Then, immediately upon entering, and I suspect somewhere near the veg area, he must have felt different upon quiet reflection by the broccoli, as he came out making hand signals.
These signals included making a pair of binoculars out of his hands. I think this was some sort of indication he would be watching me, but with makeshift binoculars, I wasn’t worried. Though I did hope I wasn’t going to come home to the cats skinned, and swinging in the porch one day.
I drove home and immediately coming in cut the end off my cheese sausage, and then started to tell Tony about binocular man, stuffing my face, before then going back in to cut another slice for the dog.
‘Hhhmmm, are you sure that’s what just happened, you did go out a little feisty’, Tony tells me. ‘Yes,that’s what happened’. ‘Well why didn’t you just stop, why did you honk your horn?’ ‘Because I was applying the rules of the highway code’. ‘Don’t be a dick. You went out annoyed and you got cross. An evil look would have sufficed and are you giving the dog cheese, he’s lactose intolerant?’. ‘Oh shit, I forgot’. ‘Did you cut me some?’. ‘No’. ‘Great, but you cut the bloody dog some and now he’ll have the shits for days’. Ignoring him I go off to watch a feature length ‘Are you being served?’, that great 70s British comedy.
After some dinner, we settle down to watch TV and tuck into wine and the chocolate orange. There’s nothing like the smash of a chilled chocolate orange on the coffee table before sharing out the segments. That’s my job.
Apparently, I am eating my half of the chocolate orange like a woman possessed. Every time I hand Tony one of his segments he basically takes it and re-stacks it on the coffee table, forming half an orange. ‘What are you doing’? I ask. ‘I’m shoring up my stack as I can’t keep up with it, it’s on some sort of perpetual motion’.
I am quite aware that even with weight loss my skin will still have the appearance of a just kneaded pizza base left to prove, and that it will never have any real structure. I will always have a bag like body that moves like a jelly fish.
I am not alone, obesity is a serious issue with over 50% of the UK adult population affected. So if you’ve been affected by the issues in this blog there is no number to call for help, just back away from the cheese and the chocolate.
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