Monday, 12 April 2010

Gillian McKeith Can Bugger Off!

This is Dr Gillian McKeith.

I assume that her expertise has never been imposed on the rest of the world (at least, I hope it hasn't), so, for international readers, DGMc was a TV dietitian.

She had her own show in which she would take someone who lived on diet of deep fried mars bars, and couldn't understand why they were fat, then make them poo in a box (POO. IN. A. BOX.) so she could analyse it, then tell them to eat broccoli and steamed rice, and then everyone would be surprised when the target lost weight.

Patronising cow.

A couple of weeks ago a couple of old friends came to stay. I have a photo in my kitchen of a gang of us at a wedding, taken about four years ago. Lorraine looked at the photo and observed that we'd all filled out a bit since then. Slightly indignantly, after they had left, I tried on the dress I wore to the wedding. I needed to prove her wrong. I Have Not Filled Out. Except that the zipper went about half way up and stuck. Clearly the zipper is broken.

With the last few days of lovely sunny weather, I've started putting woolly jumpers away and pulling summer skirts out, and it was with some disappointment that I realised that the zippers would probably be broken on a few of them too. And that my summer tops had probably shrunk in the wash.

So today I started a diet. A right proper diet. I can't do this by halves. If I tell myself that I'll cut back a bit, then I'll lie to myself and say that eating half a deep fried mars bar is clearly progress. So I'm properly calorie counting.

Oh. My. God. I'M BORED! Day one, and I'm climbing the walls! Plain porridge for breakfast, a tuna salad for lunch, and salmon risotto for dinner. Truth is that it's not wildly different from what I might have on a normal day, except that there have been no treats.

All I've been able able to think about all day is food. I've been able to smell it and hear it and see it all day. Even when it's not been there. I've had whole chunks of time when I've not been able to concentrate because I'm too busy thinking about cakes. Or sweets. Or chocolate. I have googled recipes, just so that I can read the words. It's like food porn.

At lunchtime through the week, I almost always have soup or a salad. I'm not a big sandwich fan. But today I hankered after rich creamy cheeses and fresh fluffy white bread. Real butter too, of course. Salted. Never unsalted. Never.

Dribble, dribble, dribble.

I need to snap out of it! I need to concentrate! I need to pull myself together and stop fantasising about food! I need to behave myself for long enough that the zippers on my clothes work again! I need to do this for myself before some crazy Scottish woman makes me poo in a box*.

* This post has enabled me to use the best post label ever.


  1. It's the treats that do for us all.

    Well, those and the foie gras.

  2. As a crazy Scottish woman myself, I can promise to never make anyone poo in a box for any reason and I will heartily encourage anyone to eat a cupcake, anytime. Stupid defective clothing that breaks/shrinks.

  3. Perhaps this was what legendary Lock and Lock was invented for? That way you can check out your poo and then seal it in a nice airtight container so that it doesn't make your bin smell (and you don't have to clean it out).

    I sooo want to make a joke about that being a shit idea but I am holding myself back. Got. To. Keep. Quiet. Aaaarrrggh!

    Am also off cakes. And chocolates. And anything that tastes nice and sweet. It sucks.

    BTW. She got her "doctor" label taken off her. I think she bought it off the interweb or something.

  4. Ugh. Look on the bright side - you are not putting yourself through a gruelling 3,000 a day sit up regime like some people I know.

  5. Alas she is on TV here in Aus. I keep hoping that one of her large deep fried mars bar eaters simply sits on her and she is sucked into their large rear end. I can just see them standing up after, with her skinny little legs sticking out their butt hole. I'm pretty sure she'd still keep up that shrill, condescending crap she spouts, it'd just be muffled.

  6. Yay the sun has come out! Actually thinking about it - it can go back in if all it does is make us expose our easter-egged bodies...

  7. 一個人就像一個分數,他的實際才能是分子,他對自己的評價是分母。分母越大,則分數的價值越小。 ....................................................

  8. Ooh i forgot about her!!! Thank god she seems to have buggered off to Aus (appologies for that rusty hoe) I too am in diet mode, it's the weather i think and the fact that i'm going to a wedding in a few weeks and i hate myself in nearly every dress i have tried on! I have had an awful weekend and Monday so this morning i ate a wagon wheel for breakfast and had a mocha with CREAM!! I literally hate myself today :(

  9. I feel your pain! I chose the easy option and bought a few slightly larger new clothes. Now, where is that cake?...

  10. My goodness, but doesn't poo in a box flush out a lot of comments!

    MLS - I don't eat nuffink I can't pronounce.
    Veg - They ARE stupid clothes. I'm glad you're not one of the poo-curious Scotts.
    BL - I don't know what you do in Reading, but in Tooting, we FLUSH our poos.
    Am - NO I AM CERTAINLY NOT! And neither should you be. Sit down and eat cake.
    Rusty - the best mental image EVER. Thank you!
    Swift - Easter Egged bodies? Mine is still Christmas Crackered!
    Eden R - A wagon wheel isn't breakfast. TWO wagon wheels is breakfast. One is a mere snackette.
    Frog - I've already chosen that option twice. Something has to give (potentially the seams on my trousers).

  11. I am going to become rich and famous by starting a diet where you poo in a box and analyse it *yourself* and then you just don't want to eat any more. Ever.

    You may have 10%.

  12. 10% of the takings, not the poo.

  13. Ally, your first comment made me smile, but your second comment made me snort mango and orange smoothy out my nose. Which, judging by the look on the waitresses face, is a bad thing.


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