I imagine many thousands of people will, like me, have resolved to lose weight in 2011.
This is not an unusual occurrence for me. As far back as I can remember each new year has seen me resolve to lose weight. And generally I do. Initially. Sometimes I even keep it going until April/May time.
Then the wheels come off – well they would under all this weight.
My wife tells me regularly that I should lose weight for the benefit of my heath and, while I find it a compelling argument, I have to remind her that there are several obstacles to this solution.
Firstly, I was not built for exercise. Not just now that I “have ballooned to the size of a large, round ball” (courtesy Mrs J Bowers), but always. I was reminded of this fact when I bumped into an old schoolmate during the post-Christmas shopping frenzy that seems to engulf as all between December 26 and 31.
I admitted my weight now fluctuated between 20 and 23 stone, to which he replied “To be fair mate, you never were built for stealth." It was the second time in a few months that an unexpected meeting with a former schoolmate had witnessed a similar comment. The previous one went “Well, you never were sylph-like.”
A lesser man might have taken these comments personally but I have a thick skin. A very thick skin apparently and getting thicker year on year since I was a schoolboy.
The second reason for my travails is that I find it hard to give up food. I like food. I don’t have many vices. I don’t smoke; I don’t do drugs; I’m no philanderer; I don’t have a gambling habit; and I don’t clamp cars for a living.
I do like the occasional drink, but more than that I’m a sucker for fresh bread and cheese. And nice desserts. And taramasalata. And curry. And other stuff. OK, I admit I have been known to blaspheme and I own up to coveting my neighbour’s cheeseboard, but everybody should have some fun.
A bad shoulder prevents me from playing golf. I can’t afford to go to watch my favourite football team any more – though some might say that is a blessing in disguise currently. And nor can I afford more than one night out per calendar month with either the lads or my wife. I’m also subjected by said wife to hours of soap operas and sundry TV programmes that even the East German Stasi would have considered inhumane to show prisoners.
On top of that I now have to cut down my daily calorie intake to four figures and spend at least half-an-hour per day on the Wii Fit. As a great believer in the merits of team sports I find that particularly galling as there may be no I in ‘team’ but there are three of the bloody things in Wii Fit.
But perhaps it was the reaction of this wonder of the technological age that put the lid on my bodily expansion. In creating my Wii Me (give me strength) I discovered I couldn’t create a little character with a waistline that was truly representative. And then when it measured my weight I was actually off the scale which finished at ‘obese’.
So to misquote Lewis Carroll – who I believe did not have a weight problem – the time has come, the walrus said, to digest other things. No cheese, no beer, no bread, no fun, just cabbages and things…
■ Weight at January 4, 2011: a lot
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