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.

Some things happened

Three Things Made Me Scratch My Head

1) A man dressed as a cigarette was standing on Oxford Street handing out leaflets. I assumed that they were about giving up smoking, so I said, "No thanks. I don't smoke." And he said, "Oh, no, these are about cheap phone deals."

So why are you ...? Oh, never mind!

2) A man on the train (who bore more than a passing resemblance to Bob Carolgees) was talking on a mobile phone. An average, unremarkable, typical silver box. But more remarkably, when he was listening to it, he held it to his ear and when he was talking, he moved it around and held it upright, in front of his mouth.

Has he never seen anyone using a phone before? Or does he think they are all walkie talkies?

3) The earring dropped out of my hands and I saw it hit the carpet and bounce. It wasn't moving fast. It was low to the ground. It can only have gone so far. So where is it? Where. Is. It? I've looked where it landed. I've looked four feet in every direction from it. I've run my hand over the carpet. It's gone. But do you know what? Later, when I walk over there to take off my (lesser, second choice) earrings in my bare feet, I bet you a fiver that I stand on the sodding thing.

Three Things Made Me Smile

1) Brad has left Angelina. He's probably on his way over here right now. I'll put my best spotty jarmies on to be ready for his almost certain arrival. Now, where did I put my bed socks?

2) I had a thank you card from a friend for her Christmas gift. It starts, "Thank you so much for my lovely earrings. They are stunningly slim and gorgeous, much like myself ..." As I read it, I can hear her saying it, and I'm reminded how fab it is to have a pal you know well enough to be able to finish their sentences for them.

3) I saw an ad for the Winter Olympics. (I don't know if that should have a capital W or not, but, I've tried it both ways, and with looks better). I LOVE the Winter Olympics. It's twenty different types of skidding. I am the least sporty person on the planet, and I loathe the cold, snow, and ice. Winter sports ought to be repellent to me, but I can't wait to watch a bit of high end, well trained, semi-professional skiddage.

Three Things Made Me Feel A Little Bit Guilty

1) I found a bar of dairy milk in the fridge and I'm eating it. It's my fridge, my chocolate, my house, so there's nothing really to feel guilty about. But it does feel a small bit indulgent.

2) I got the jar of herbs off the shelf and as I did so, I noticed that the "best before" date on the thyme was September 2007. That means that I moved an out-0f-date jar of herbs from my old flat to my new house. It also explains why nothing has tasted very thymey for a while ...

3) I'm typing* this whilst watching Glee. I feel a bit dirty, but also a bit compelled to turn on the subtitles so that I can sing along.

* I typed "tryping" before correcting, but on reflection, maybe I was right the first time...