So, I’ve joined Slimming World.
In itself a great move and let me tell you, despite epic portions of pasta and jacket potatoes the size of Scottish Fishermen’s hands – I’ve lost 6lb in my first week. To be fair my first week did follow a week in which I retained water like a camel but 6lbs none the less.
At my first meeting, sitting on my hard red plastic chair worshipping at the parapet of healthy eating I realised the truth – we were all obsessed with food. Eating it; not eating it, buying it, storing it – particularly in secret places. One woman kept Curly Wurlys under her jumpers in the chest of drawers.
Our esteemed leader is not exactly ‘trim’ but after begrudgingly handing over my cash she talked about losing 5 stones. Fair play I thought, you’re on your way. She followed up with how she’s struggled this week due to Bonfire night.
Come on people – seriously, Bonfire night? Jacket potatoes are the staple of any Slimming World aficionado so don’t blame Bonfire night! Now smuggling sausages and toffee apples under your virtuous spud might be to blame but not the night itself.
In addition to tales of food hoarding, buying, eating and dreaming we were treated to an in depth analysis of one woman’s ‘hormones’. Apparently she’d not lost any weight for a month because of them. I wanted to ask whether they’d been scurrying around at night hoovering chocolate and lard up then, in some kind of umbilical miracle, suctioned the whole lot onto her arse. I didn’t, it was my first week and what did I know.
I also discovered a whole new world of food. ‘Quark, fat free and delicious’, apparently. It sounded more like a cult-inspired mantra than something I really wanted to eat but I’ve duly bought some and it’s sitting in the fridge until I decide what to do with it. Maybe lace it with rum, cream and Nutella and make a cheesecake, no, no, no!
When a lonely man piped up that he’d lost 3.5lbs this week there was an embittered silence. Our leader said: “So what have you done this week to get such a great loss Mike?”
“I followed the plan” he announced, naively expecting this to be a logical and correct answer. No mention of hormones, Bonfire night or even the good grace to invent a sickness bug which could have led to such a shedding.
Curly Wurly woman visibly shuddered and I realised this is not the time to celebrate.
The weigh-in queue is always busy and slow because even the hint of a heavy necklace can take you into the next stone and further from that shiny half a stone sticker. Jeans are a no-no for weigh-in day and boots need to be easily removable. Only a fool would wear a coat.
We were a bunch of kindred spirits, in love with food but not our fat bums. I’m hoping for 3lbs next week – mind you I’m feeling a little hormonal and I’m going to a Christening Sunday – but they’ll understand.