At the Weight-watchers session this evening, Our Ever Encouraging Leader asks us all to fill in a postcard listing three things we want to achieve over the forthcoming eight weeks as we prepare for Summer.
I write down three wildly ambitious targets. I always feel wildly ambitious during our meeting. Sadly the feeling will have worn off by the time I get home so that when Mr
B waves a bottle of Beaujolais under my nose, raising an eye-brow by way of a question, I will weaken immediately and will trot to retrieve two wine glasses from the dish –washer without so much as a quibble. This is my trouble – no will-power.
I need to toughen up a bit.
To be honest, my targets are not really that wildly ambitious – apart from the first one which suggests that I will lose half
a stone over the period in question. Fat chance – if you’ll pardon the pun. Target number 2 is to wear my pedometer every day. Well, what a cop-out that is. Simply wearing a pedometer is not the same as totting up 10,000 steps a day.
Target number three is to eat a piece of fruit or veg with every meal. Wine, I am given to understand, doesn’t count, despite all those grapes which go into its production. Such a pity.
I imagine you want to know how I fared at my weigh-in. Most Weight-watchers like to keep their scores on the doors a secret unto themselves and their Leader – but the Daily Blog is a bit like a confessional (albeit without
a priest and the Hail Marys) so I am happy to report that I lost half a pound this week. This is the very same half pound which I put on last week. Over the past several months I have lost one and a half pounds which probably makes me The
Most Unsuccessful Weightwatcher Of All Time.
There is absolutely no point in me inventing reasons for my failure, either, because my Weightwatchers Leader reads
the Daily Blog. She knows when we have hot-footed it down to our favourite Indian Restaurant because we didn't fancy cooking; she remembers how much I love the chocolate biscuits served up by my friend Delia at our fortnightly cribbage sessions; she is well
aware of the existence of the Bacon Bap Club which meets after choir every Friday morning in the cafe at the Heene Community Centre. There really is No Hiding Place.
After the weigh-in and while waiting for Our Leader to finish weighing lots of more successful slimmers, I take a seat beside my friend Heather and we discuss the following week’s weight loss tactics. She lets me see her weight record card
and there are smiley faces and stars decorating almost every week, as well as several “silver sevens” stuck on the front of her card, marking each half-stone lost. I look at my card, which boasts just two smiley faces. It is a very good thing,
I comfort myself, that Our Leader doesn’t possess other emoticons like scowling faces, with which to chart our progress or lack of it.
I ask Heather what
three targets she wrote on her postcard. Easy, she said. 1. Lose weight. 2 Lose more weight. 3. Lose even more weight. I am beside myself with admiration. This is what you call single-minded determination. This is, indeed, a Star Weightwatcher.
She deserves every single one of those smiley faces on her weight record card.
I fear I am never going to live up to Heather. This has nothing at all
to do with the Weightwatchers programme which clearly works for many. It is all down to the fact that I am enjoying life far, far too much.
Not to mention the
fact that I am, as you know, Always Thinking About My Stomach.