I cannot tell you how many times I have walked into a bar and stopped short at the sight of taught, tanned and toned women – the sort with derriere’s so tight that they could crack nuts between their bum cheeks- before trying to shrink my average sized body into the shadows to hide my slightly wobbly belly, love handles that are the bane of my existence and back fat (that I never noticed creeping on until recently, damn you two way mirrors in H and M).
Neither can I tell you how many times I have tried to do something about my imperfections to fit in with these women and failed…..miserably. Each and every single time.
I always start with good intentions when I diet. I cut cute pieces of carrot and cucumber up for snacks, popping them into a dinky little Tupperware box and dig out bags of green tea to flush my system out. Only trouble is, by lunchtime I could quite happily eat my own arm….or rip it off and hit someone with it.
Diets you see not only mean that you can’t eat bread, pasta, chocolate….. anything that isn’t purple, but they also, pretty much every time, no matter what diet you try, have an adverse affect on your mood. Whether that’s because you’re craving things you can’t have, or because your blood sugar plummets faster than a sky diver without a parachute I can’t be sure, but either way diets generally leave me somewhere between Victor Meldrew and The Incredible Hulk with the mother of all hangovers.
There have been occasions when I have actually had to ask my best friend to “please stop that annoying thing that you are doing before I kill you” – with the ‘annoying thing’ on this occasion being …… breathing.
You think quitting smoking is bad, it’s NOTHING compared to knowing that to look like Angelina Jolie you will have to give up the good stuff forever.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried to be positive about it all by telling myself that I love seeds and nuts and a moment on the lips means a life time on the hips, but in reality I love seeds and nuts about as much as I would love removing my nose hairs with a live crab and what I really want is a great dirty cheese burger, dripping in sweet chilli sauce.
The only time I actually did lose any weight on a diet was when I embarked upon the heartbreak diet – we all know the one – you physically can’t eat for moping. It wasn’t really a diet looking back, more a stage in my grieving process. Somewhere along the line I thought losing a bit of weight might bring my love back to me. That plan didn’t last long. After a week of searing headaches, stomach cramps and sheer unbridled rage, I realised Prince Charming wasn’t going to come knocking again, especially if he thought that I might eat him.
No, diets are not for me. I’m not cut out to starve and when all is said and done it’s not like I’ll be appearing on “The World’s Fattest Cheese Burger eater” any time soon. I’m a healthy(ish) size twelve with a balanced diet and a sexy little glow (some say glow, some say vodka blushes…whatever) and it’s not like you ever see those perfect skinny minnies in bars smiling anyway…..I think I know the reason for that one!
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