I am on a diet.
That’s one of the first things you do. You tell everyone you’re on a diet.
No I can’t finish off your half-chewed Smiley Face, darling. I am on a diet
A sweetener in my tea please pet instead of sugar. I am on a diet.
I can’t have a French Fancy mum. I am on a diet.
Listen shop keeper I don’t care if your sales of Twirls are down 400%. I am on a diet.
I must have been on 6,286 diets in my time so I am a bit of an expert. Well when I say expert, I mean it in the loosest sense. I haven’t actually managed to get rid of that half stone of weight each of my children left behind when they invaded my body like graffiti tag artists marking their turf. Bless them – so creative!
Then I thought I was big and clever not doing the January diet.
No one keeps to a diet in dark dank January I smugly thought stuffing in more Roses and finishing off the fake Baileys from Aldi. Now I bloody have another half stone of post-new year inhaling to add to the pile.
I did join a gym but that didn’t go too well. The gym instructor looked me up and down and asked which part of my body I most wanted to work on. Caught off guard (because it was quite clear which part what with me looking like I was being sponsored by Michelin Tyres in my joggers), I told him I’d just had a baby. Phew! Dodged that one nicely. But no he was a nosey hole (and an expert in post-natal exercise. Damnation) and wanted to know how old this baby was. One, I whispered. Which would be shame itself – except my baby is actually four. I’ve not been back yet. I’ll go when I’ve lost a stone.
The thing about dieting though is that I tend to make the same mistakes over and over in my attempt at some form of abstinence. I can’t be the only one. Does anyone else’s deluded dieting go something like this?
Day 1 & 2
- Tell everyone you are on a diet. Did I mention this?
- Swagger to the school drop off eating an apple telling everyone with your eyes ‘Yes, that’s right. This girl is on a diet. Diet. Here. Going on.’
- Go to the shop and buy everything you normally eat but just in a low fat form. Even low fat chocolate cheesecake. Ace.
- Go to the gym and feel epic because you can run for 20 minutes without getting breathless (you knew you were secretly a fit overweight type).
- Try and not get jealous of the glamorous mum next to you with the trendy gym gear and curly blow dry.
- Internet shop for gym clothes just like glamorous mum. Twins now. Also order a bum bag for the off road 12-mile running that you are going to start. Stop short (just) at a sweat band.
- Eat a rice cake and decide they are quite nice after all.
- Then day dream about what outfits you are going to wear in four weeks when you are skinny as a rake.
- Not eat for half an hour and imagine all the fat breaking down in your stomach as it goes into starvation mode. Awesome.
- Buy brown rice, cook brown rice, break tooth on brown rice, microwave some white rice.
- Weigh self and try not to cry (or eat a comfort cake).
Day 3 & 4
- Go to school drop off in new gym gear. Plus bum bag. It is great at hiding the spare tyre. Meet all the awestruck mums eye to eye. Yep. Still dieting. Now off for a run. I really am this marv.
- Go back to the gym and only manage to walk for five minutes on the treadmill as all your muscles have seized up.
- Hide in loos quick as glamorous mum comes in as it is obvious you are the “before” in the twin photo shoot.
- Come home. Eat a rice cake.
- Work out on fitness app that if walk up stairs 22 times you can have a Weight Watchers biscuit or a bag of Quavers.
- Eye up that gorgeous dress from your honeymoon going dusty in your wardrobe and tell it ‘you and me baby, some time next week.’
- Google juicers and juice diets on the internet. Get bored and google liposuction. Google bank loans. Look around to see if anything worth selling in house. Linger on crystal vase from aunt too long,
- Sniff the children’s pizza fingers as they come out of the oven (lick two) and try to get excited about grilled salmon with vegetables (aka the punishment dinner).
- Get randomly narky at husband over serious crime of not wiping shoes long enough on way in as finding it hard to grasp that excitement fully of penance delicious dinner.
- Weigh self and try not to cry (or eat a comfort cake).
- Go to bed at 8.15pm just so day is over and you don’t break and stuff face with Cherry Bakewells (which for the record taste of cardboard).
Day 5 & 6
- Go shopping and decide you like Double Deckers more than you like the idea of a flat stomach.
- Resist and feel saintly. Buy some of those thin versions of Dairy Milk (for the kids).
- Come home and eat a rice cake and wonder if it would taste better with low fat chocolate cheesecake on it (it does!)
- Thank the higher gods it’s Friday. And you are allowed wine. Just one mind.
- Drink four glasses of wine and once husband distracted by Graham Norton hide in kitchen and stuff two Dairy Milks in your mouth without tasting them. Shurrup. It doesn’t count on a Friday.
- Wake up and tell husband you are going the gym and hang around in the Starbucks with a skinny latte until enough time has passed to go home (have flash back to days when your parents sent you to Mass and you walked around the block for an hour).
- Decide it’s time to try on that honeymoon dress. Come to Mama. Break zip. Wonder if you are actually six months pregnant and you are going to have one of those surprise babies (I only popped out to the chippy and came back with a baby).
- Tell husband this must be why nothing fits you anymore. Wait til he has finished laughing his head off and stuff two more Dairy Milks in mouth (they are thin so you need two).
- Demand Chinese take away for dinner as he was so mean.
- Drink four more glasses of wine,
- Weigh self. Grab another Dairy Milk.
Oh Bog off
*And repeat same time, same place next week.