Well, I’ve taken the plunge and joined WeightWatchers. People tell me I am overreacting, but in the past week or two I have drifted over the 11 stone mark and into the “overweight” end of the BMI scale. What am I to do – wait until I hit the “obese” mark? I prefer to act now.
I get measured on the big scary scales by Derrise, who looks sympathetically at me and tells me not to worry. I’m officially 71kg (11 stone 3lb). Our meeting leader, Angela, is a buoyant forty-something lady with a welcoming air. I stay for the meeting, and commit to sticking to my daily points (19) and not worrying if I don’t lose anything in the first week.
Laden with points-measuring books and recipes, I head back to work, feeling lighter: emotionally, after the first step taken, and financially, after paying for 12 weeks upfront. It begins.
I sign on to an excellent online tool which allows me to track my daily intake of food and my exercise regime. I am delighted to find that many of my own personal recipes for our normal dinners – chilli con carne, chicken stir-fry – are perfectly within range. As long as I can manage the portion control.
There’s the thing: I will cook enough for four people and we will eat it all in one sitting. Half a kilo of meat for two is not an unusual sight on our dinner table. We order the Pizza Hut takeaway meal for four, and eat it ourselves. We can’t say no. We have to change this.
I start weighing everything obsessively. Our portions are going to get really small. I will bulk up everything with lots of vegetables. I make my usual vegetable curry (2 points per serving) and eat it every day for four nights at dinnertime. I borrow a juicer and make oodles of carrot/lettuce/apple/cucumber juice. I drink water like it’s going out of fashion. After almost a week my skin sure looks better but I’m not sure if anything else is happening.
I start exercising more: just maybe going for a walk (a strenuous walk) a couple of evenings. It’s lovely to walk my 4km circuit along the boardwalk at Altona Beach. Then I even foray back into the world of aerobics classes. Even through the thin layer of flab I carry, I can feel my muscles tightening.
Wednesday lunchtime looms. I wear light clothing, and avoid drinking for most of the morning to make sure the scales tell me good news. I take my shoes off and wait for Derrise: I have lost one kilo.
I’m on my way!