Monday holiday

On holiday...back tomorrow!

Dream cuisine

Friday fever has kidnapped me again. I’ve been bouncing around like Tigger since 6am. Not sure why as it’s not like I’ve got anything wildly exciting planned for the weekend. No, there's nothing else for it, this weekend I must do a bit more experimentation in the kitchen.

I’ve discovered that cooking laziness is this slimmer’s biggest enemy. Last week I found myself making bean tacos once too often, only because it was fast. But it’s definitely not a good idea. Apart from the fact that the ice caps can’t cope with that, not eating a varied enough diet really does seem to slow down the weight loss. It’s like your gut downs tools and says, ‘Enough already, if you don’t give me something different to eat, I’m going to sabotage your entire mission!’

So it’s time to try out some new quick and easy recipes to get me through the week. That means I'll no doubt spend hours drooling over recipe pictures, pick one I like and then get mightily annoyed when I read: Preparation 50 mins, cooking time 4 hours. I mean, come on, I'll be a pensioner before I get dinner on the table!

Oh how I'd love to be Captain Janeway on Star Trek Voyager. All she has to do is bellow, “Beef Wellington, hot!” into her ‘replicator’ and hey presto it appears out of thin air complete with vegetable sculpture and a nice glass of red!

Forget bagless hoovers, when are the boffins going to put me out of my misery and invent the replicator?

So how EXACTLY do you do it?

I keep being asked ‘EXACTLY HOW’ I’m losing weight. And it’s funny because if you don’t respond with the ‘name’ of a well known fad diet, slimming club or strange underground cult, people look at you like you're short-changing them!

‘Oh, you know, just cutting down the old portion sizes, eating less cakes and choccies, drinking less beer, and learning to cook more healthy meals,’ just sounds so, well, AMATEUR.

It doesn’t matter if it’s working, it’s obviously just not sexy enough for some people. Inner Bitch keeps egging me on to respond with a dead pan ‘Oh, you know, half a pint of newts blood for breakfast, for protein you understand, a light snack of sauted chickens feet midmorning, and one of my favourites like boiled bat balls for lunch. You?’

But that’d just be unkind. Anyway, I’m kind of proud to be doing it the old fashioned way. So here, for the record, is my master plan.

1. Eat three healthy balanced meals and two fruit snacks a day. I just choose healthy recipes and get stuck in.
2. Drink lots of water. Tap's fine by me.
3. Cook healthily and mainly from scratch so I know what I’m eating.
4. Get a grip on my portion sizes. No more Daddy Bear bowls of chow for me!

Combined with:

1. The discipline of this blog. It really, really helps!
2. Move more! Otherwise I’ll keep writing and lose the use of my legs!
3. Going easy on myself. Expecting to have off days and not bothering too much if I do because it’ll all balance itself out by the time I get back on the scales next week anyway.
4. Staying positive about it, not rising to Inner Bitch’s (or anyone else’s) negativity if possible, and focusing on the end result: a new wardrobe of clothes I actually LIKE in a size 14.
5. Saying: "I want to be a size 14 more than I want that cake, chocolate" every time I'm about to fall off the wagon! Of course, I do 'allow' for a bit of wagon trapezing now and again. I am human.
5. Hynotherapy/relaxation cds – I am the epitome of a ‘chilled’ slimmer. Oum!

And that’s it. There’s really nothing sexy about it at all. I’d love to say there is, but there just isn’t. And while I’m busting to invent something else like,

6. Eat one’s cereal off Brad Pitt’s six-pack…

… that would just be fibbing!

Talk about the tears of a clown...

Because I’m about as flexible as the tin man, I’ve always been impressed by bendy people. So at the weekend I joined the queue of kids high on candy floss and got ready to ooh and ahh at the Moscow State Circus. http://www.moscowstatecircus.com (there are half price ticket vouchers lying around cafes all over Edinburgh if you’re interested!)

And I was not disappointed. Sure it seemed a little bit retro here and there, but the show's theme based around the infamous and mysterious life of Rasputin, the Black Monk, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grigori_Rasputin quickly caught my attention. Like the bit at the start when Rasputin was apparently ‘escaping into his dreams’ just as two lycra-clad temptresses appeared and promptly draped themselves over him.

So that’s what monks dream about! Glad they cleared that up!

Anyway, Rasputin dotted in and out of the show, accompanied by an awkwardly translated voiceover delivered in a thick Russian accent which kept making me think of John Cleese in a Fish Called Wanda, but his main role was as ringmaster. One after the other he presented a fantastic troupe of super-bendy, bouncy and unspeakably coordinated performers.

I mean, even the clowns were bendy, for heaven's sake!

So when I bent down to pick up my brolly at the end of the show and felt my back ‘go’ the irony was not lost on me. ‘No, not now, not here of all places!’

Time to roll out the yoga mat methinks.

Fat blind terrorist cows and other stories...

Yesterday was a funny old day in the news. Beyond the Lockerbie furore, there was the story about the terrifying trend of ramblers being trampled to death by… cows! (The cynic in me just can't help wondering if that was a plant of a story - Forget Lockerbie, folks, cows are the new terrorists!)

But the story that really caught my eye was the one declaring that we are now officially the second fattest nation on earth. No prizes for guessing who takes the gold!

But wait, it gets even better because apparently we are not just a nation of fatties, we are a nation of ‘blind fatties’ that aren’t even aware we are fat!
http://thescotsman.scotsman.com/uk/39Fat-blind39-Brits-told-they.5580417.jp

Blind? I don't think so. We may only be a little devolved nation these days, but when it comes to stubbornness, we are world leaders.

If we aint going to let anyone tell us what to do with our legal process, we certainly aint going to let any begger tell us to stop eating deep fried mars bars either. So there!

But maybe I will cut down, just a tad!

The Chip-pendales?

I just had to tell you a wee yarn I heard in the pub on Friday….
I don’t even care if it’s just another one of those urban myths that make Edinburgh so much fun at Festival time, it just really tickled me...

Apparently, one of the Chippendales was seen lugging a big plastic bag out of a well known frozen food store the other day.

Am I missing something in my zealous campaign to eat more healthily? Should we sod the spinach, ditch the carrot peeler and bring on the pasties and chips instead?

Because if they can look that good on a sack load of beige, processed food, Mr Slimma, honey, from now on you are definitely having what they’re having!

Sausage roll, anyone?

Oh yes, yes, yes!

Bonfire of the insanities

That's it! I'm going to do it. I'm going to throw out ALL my size 20 clothes today.

Inner Bitch: Ooohh, do you really think that's such a good idea, Tubs?

Me: What do you mean? I've no intention of losing all this weight to put it all back on again. That's the whole point of the blog for a start. I have said it's my LAST EVER weight loss mission, and I kinda like to think I'm a woman of my word!

IB: Yeah, not saying you don't believe you'll do it, but what does that have to do with reality? You're a big girl, you like eating a lot, why can't you just accept your porcine destiny?"

Me: Destiny? Are you kidding? I wasn't always a big girl. One upon a time I even got a bit too thin. Anyway, why am I even talking to you? You're just a miserable voice in my head. I told you to take a hike 3 weeks ago, so hop it!

IB (skulking back into the wardrobe): Fine, but don't come crawling to me next year when you've nothing to wear!

Me: Right, where was I? OK, better make two piles. Some stuff's ok for the charity shop, and the rest should go in the bin. No, wait, this is a big deal, this is farewell size 20 forever! Binning just seems like such an anti-climax.

Inner Goddess: Nothing says forever like a bonfire!

Me: Oooh, I'm liking your thinking, girlfriend. Let's go!

Don't worry, Edinburgh, there will be no drumming, wooping or naked cavorting to lower the tone.

See you Monday!

My kitchen hall of shame

I’m no chef, but when we moved to a house with a smaller kitchen recently we discovered we had quite a lot of kitchen gadgets gathering dust.

So before they are recycled or consigned to the garage, I thought I’d wheel them out for a little ‘blog exhibition’.

So… in date of purchase order, without further ado, may I present…

The fondue set: Cast your mind back to the 80s, when shoulder pads were in and eating a gallon of melted cheese in one sitting seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Ah the memories! Like the time I singed my beautifully crimped hair on the burner and gave all my guests food poisoning.

Moving on a decade now, here we have…

The juicer: A really practical ‘objet de cuisine’ if you really like juice. And I mean really. This particular model was purchased at the height of my insane lose-weight-by-drinking-fresh-juice campaign, and comes complete with a recipe book written by a strange little man in shorts who probably mainlines the stuff. Like so many of its kind, this model was abandoned approximately 1 month after purchase - when I discovered that is how long it takes to clean it.

Ah, the breadmaker: Nothing beats the smell of freshly baked bread in the morning! But it does help if you remember to turn it on the night before. Because this cheap, early model simply could not be rushed. Even if you did remember to turn it on you’d be lucky to get one slice of toast out of it. The moral of this story? You get what you pay for!

And mama mia, last but not least, we have this fine 20th century example of a pasta maker: A Mr Slimma purchase inspired by a trip to Rome and his sadly short-lived fad for cooking ‘real’ Italian food (or any food for that matter!). Abandoned shortly after I came home from town one day to find he’d almost been devoured by a triffid-like invasion of 20ft long spaghetti strands.


Got anything you’d like to exibit?

And now for the science part...

Since I started this blog I've been watching how other people eat. You see I've had a theory for some time that goes something like this…

Women out dining with other women (especially groups of female friends) eat bigger portions and less healthily than women who are eating with men – especially couples.

What on earth is that about? Is it evolution? Is it some kind of ancient unspoken female bonding ritual? Does the phenomenon apply to all women? Are we just greedy but don't want men to think we are?

Or is there something fishier going on? Do men actually have the power to make women lose their appetites? And if they do, why hasn't someone made a mint out of that idea! (I'll stick my TM on it now if that's ok!)

What a breakthrough! Imagine the ads...

"WOMEN, SOLVE YOUR WEIGHT PROBLEMS INSTANTLY. EAT WITH A MAN!"

The merchandising opportunities could be interesting too. Blow up male dolls might even become acceptable in polite company. 'Him? Good heavens no, we're not dating! He's just helping me lose these last few stubborn pounds!'

Anyway, flights of fancy aside, all this lurking behind laptops and snooping behind newspapers might eventually get me thrown out of my favourite local cafe, so I decided to see if there was any real research going on to substantiate my theory...

And would you believe it, there is!…

See http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/08/090805114616.htm

It's one of 'those' days...

Well, I made it to the page, I mean screen. Was beginning to wonder if I'd ever get here as I'm definitely having 'one of those days'. From stubbing my toe getting out the shower to pouring coffee on my Weetabix instead of milk, I'm clearly on a roll.

And I can't even put this wave of clumsiness down to 'my cycle'. But when Inner Sloth suggested that a few more hours kip would do me the world of good, I was more than ready to believe her. After all, I'm sure I heard someone on a bus last week say clumisness is an early sign swine flu. Can't be too careful...

But oh no, Inner Goddess wasn't having any of it…

IG: What do you mean you're too tired to blog? It's a blog, how hard can it be? It's not like you're revising the Magna Carta!

So here I am folks, but let me state for the record that I am here under duress! IG is now blocking the doorway and trying to intimidate me with a Paddington Bear hard stare. I'm sure Amnesty International would have something to say about this.

IG: And when you're done, a few laps round the park wouldn't go amiss, either. I let you enjoy your steak and chips every week and I'm prepared to overlook the extra glass or three of wine you didn't think I saw you consume on Friday night, but don't think you can slack off now just because you've lost your first stone. You've got a long way to go lady, and I'm going to make sure you get there!

Me: Damn you, imagination, damn you! Where the hell is the 'off' switch?

IG: I heard that!

He's a lady, oh yes, he's a lady

It’s hard to blog with one hand, but I’m doing my best. I still can’t use the other one - because I need it to prevent my jaw from hitting the floor.

I’ve been in this rather inconvenient state since Friday night when I went to see ‘The Ladyboys of Bangkok’ at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe.

What a show! Sequens, lights, music, dance, comedy and a whole load of gender confusion. Fantastic!

All the same, TBF and I did find ourselves grumbling afterwards that it seems particularly unfair that a group of ‘men’ even manage to look better than us in bikinis. (OK, to be fair they wouldn’t thank us for calling them men – for a more accurate definition, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kathoey). But they really did look so good that if ever the Pussycat Dolls get sick, they know who to call!

Anyway, I may still pass for a beached whale in my swimmers, and I’m not quite ready for my own show in Vegas, but I am a slightly smaller Orca now having lost my first stone!

Which leads me to announce my next target:


I WILL LOSE ANOTHER STONE by 19 October (yes, this year!).

Stick with me – that’s a lot of blogging!

SCROLL ON DOWN FOR THE STATS AND FOR SOME EXCELLENT DISPLACEMENT ACTIVITY…

Permission to eat granted!

I still have one. A good appetite, that is. Always have had, always will. And not even my determination to shed the extra lard once and for all is going to change that. Nor would I want it to.

Because, as I live and breathe, I SIMPLY LOVE FOOD. It’s flamin’ fantastic!

So I figured that if I was to have any chance of succeeding at this last ever weight loss mission, I’d make a big effort to cook healthier version of foods I already like, and then get a grip of my portion sizes. After all, I’m not entering an Iron Man contest any time soon, so I really don’t need to eat a whole cow – a small steak will do the trick!

I also have a few rules: All food groups must be included, and the feeling of DENIAL is to be avoided at all costs. Because as soon as I feel I deny myself any food group, the rebel in me will have me running for the nearest, biggest bar of chocolate instead. (What? You don’t?!)

Strange when you think about it – the denial of one food setting off a chain reaction that results in the eating of another, usually far less healthy one! But there you go. That’s just my personal brand of food-crazy.

But I can take comfort in the knowledge that I’m not the only weirdo out there. There are billions of us. There’s almost always an element of crazy in the weight loss fraternity. Some even form tribes that speak in languages unintelligible to the outside world - languages full of points and checks and balances, and, if you're really lucky, bonuses!

Oh yes, whatever brand of food-crazy you’re into, you are not alone!

There is a tribe for you.

So why can’t I get the lyrics to Hotel California out of my head?

FOR MORE FUN STUFF AND MY WEIGHT LOSS RESULTS KEEP SCROLLING DOWN!...

Ninja shopping

I went shopping yesterday.

I know, I know, you probably think I'm about to start moaning bitterly again. But you'd be wrong! I actually came home with some clothes!

That's because I wasn't looking for clothes - I was food shopping.

So it got me thinking. Are there some weird clothes shopping Universal Laws at work here?

Can anyone else relate to this? ...

1. You can only be successful at clothes shopping when you are not consciously clothes shopping, and
2. You are far more likely to find clothes you like when you are accompanying a friend who is desperately looking for something and can't find anything.

I'm also wondering whether that fact that I was in a supermarket made it easier. I get so browned off in town that perhaps I'm just not in the right frame of mind to see anything nice. Hmmm, maybe I suffer from a form of shopping blindness.

Anyway, from now on it's supermarket shopping all the way. Of course if my theories are right I'll have to be quite sneaky about it so that I don't jinx things.

I'll be cool, casual. I shall invent a new form of shopping - NINJA SHOPPING! The clothes won't even see me coming!

'That'll be two cabbages, 10 satsumas, one torquoise linen top, baked beans and a pair of jeans please!'

Ha! Got you!

Not bad...for your age!

It's official - I've lost a stone and the first of my two tractor-sized spare tyres!

I feel like I've passed the human equivalent of an MOT!

Just imagine it...

Mechanic: 'Yes madam, you've passed. That front lower tyre is still rather over inflated and the left and right bingo wings could use a bit of toning, but keep on doing what you're doing and you should scrub up into a fairly decent model...for your age!'

Me: 'What do you mean FOR MY AGE!'

But I guess that's true. I'm 40 going on 41, not 20! So why does Mother Nature arrange it so that on the inside I still feel like I'm 20?

If you ask me it's darn right cruel!

Last year I went skiing, a sport I've been crazy about since I was 17. Problem is, when I imagine myself skiing now I'm still imagining myself skiing the way I did when I was 20 years younger. In my head I imagine I can still ski all day every day and never get tired or achey.

So imagine my horror when after a leisurely day's skiing I fell quite spectacularly and discovered that no matter how hard I tried I just could not get myself back up!

There I was humpfing around like a large steamed pudding - panting and grunting and swearing for Scotland. And the harder I tried to get up the deeper I seemed to wedge myself into the snow.

Eventually a man stopped and helped pull me up. Turns out I'd really damaged my shoulder, but I remember that the pain was nothing compared to the embarrassment I felt about being too fat to hoist myself up!

Never again, I promised myself.

Fortunately we didn't go skiing this year so I didn't have to beat myself up for breaking that promise and other skiers were spared the prospect of being wiped out by a giant Scottish rogue elephant.

BUT NEXT YEAR WILL BE DIFFERENT! Even if I do need half a tub of deep heat just to get through a day on the slopes these days, not to mention an industrial strength sports bra, at least I'll be able to emerge gracefully from any crash site, head held high!

My mechanic will be so pleased.

Midnight musings

Blimey, it's way past midnight and I can't sleep a wink so I might as well blog.
Normally on such occasions a midnight feast would be in order. A quick raid of the fridge. After all, it'd be tragic if one was to fade away before breakfast! But as I already know there's nothing in the fridge worth raiding, it'd be futile.

So here I am, blogging without so much as a crumb let alone crumpets and jam. Whatever would Enid Blyton have to say about that?

Never mind. The notion of fridge raiding has lost some of its appeal since TBF thrust a book called 'When you eat at the Refrigerator, pull up a chair' by Geneen Roth into my curious little paws.

Full of intriguingly named chapters such as 'How to recognise a Fat and Ugly attack', 'Wear Red' , 'Give away clothes that cut off your circulation' and, my favourite, 'Whatever you do don't diet', I knew immediately that Geneen and I were going to get along just fine.

You see this is a book that anyone trying to lose weight should read for many a sound reason, but principally because it advocates being a whole lot nicer to yourself, and I'm certainly up for that.

Inner Bitch is only a few pages in and already I can tell she's not remotely amused.

Could it be she's finally met her match?
Maybe, just maybe!

Friends v Flab

I think I've mentioned Tubby Best Friend (TBF) before, haven't I? If we had a pound for every time we've talked about losing weight over the past decade we'd make the Sultan of Brunei look poor. But alas, we probably gained an extra lb every time we mentioned it instead!

Anyway, this weekend we verbally dissected the daft diets, the half hearted attempts to like exercise and all our collective failures one last time – for blog research purposes, you understand – and we agreed that if there is one landmark moment in the whole sorry saga, one moment that now seems particularly Twilight Zone, it's got to be this one…

Year: 1999

Location: TBFs flat in London.

Alcohol consumed: a few bottles of Merlot


TBF: 'When we lose weight we'll go and do….'

Me: I know, it'll be great. When I've lost Xlb I want to….'

Gay friend of TBF (GFOTBF): 'Really? What year will that be? 2010? 2020?'

Me and TBF: Huh?


You see we knew GFOTBF was a cynical old queen, but we had no idea he was also clairvoyant!

He was right! We've been like the Fletcher and Godber of slimming. Always plotting and scheming, and occasionally pulling a fast one and dropping a few pounds, but ultimately doing some serious Porridge in Tubbyville.

But now we're out. And this time it's different. We're fighting the flab with positivity and absolutely no calorie counting. Isn't it liberating?

So TBF, this post's for you! By Christmas you'll be wearing that wardrobe full of 'slim clothes' again - not swearing at them!

Good thing fashion's gone retro, eh?

A midsummer day's dream

OMG, that was some headache yesterday. Inner Goddess hauled me kicking and screaming from my computer screen and imposed a strict blogging embargo.

IG: No blogging till the room stops moving around and the lights stop flashing and that’s final!

Thank heavens for horse pills, that’s all I can say. Mind you, the pain was almost worth it for the cracking dream I had in the afternoon…

LOCATION: SAINSBURY’S SUPERMARKET, SWEETIE AISLE.

Family-size bar of Dairy Milk chocolate speaking in sexy French accent: Hey Baby I am two for one aujourd’hui…how’z about a treesome!

Me: You talkin’ to me?

DM: But of course, Baby! I saw you look-ing. I KNOW zat you are my kind of woman!

Me (blushing): Really? I’m not that easy you know!”

DM (flashing his shiny purple wrapper seductively):Oh, playing all coy now are we? I remember ze good ol’ days! Just toi et moi, a steaming HOT mug of tea and NO interruptionz!

Me: I’ve told you before Dairy Milk, those days are over!. I don’t DO chocolate no more!

ENTER Queen of trailer trash afternoon telly, Ricki Lake…

Ricki Lake:That’s not what we’ve heard! Fry’s Turkish Delight over there says you’ve been giving him some part time lovin for the past three weeks!

Me: That’s a lie, a dirty lie, I tell you! Dairy Milk, honey, don’t listen to her. I may be slimming, but you’re right, I still only have eyes for you!

Ricki Lake: There’s only one way to find out - LIE DETECTOR TEST!!! What do you say people, should she take the test?

Mob of grannies: Take the test, take the test, take the test!!!

Me: Fine, I’ll take it! Satisfied?

Ricki: Well the results are in and I have to tell you, it looks like someone’s been-a-cheatin!

DM(devastated!): I can’t believe it. Ma Cherie and zat puny gelatinous Turkish upstart? You chose HIM over moi? Look at him, he doesn’t even have a six pack. He’s all wobbly inside!

Me (ashamed!): I know, but he’s only 200 calories a bar. I thought I’d get away with it!

Mob of grannies closing in: CHEATER, CHEATER, CHEATER!!!

Distant Voice: Wake up, wake up, wake up you silly cow, you’re dreaming!!

Me:AHHHHHHHHH! Oh thank God it’s you Inner Goddess. I just had the weirdest dream. There was Ricki Lake, talking chocolate, evil pensioners. It was bloomin’ terrifying!

IG: I gather that, but it’s alright now….HEY, hang on… what’s that pink shiny wrapper sticking out from under your pillow?

Ouch!

Due to the sky, or some other heavy unidentified object falling on my head blogging is suspended till tomorrow....
Right, where are those pills....

Blog a blog blog blog, blog a blog blog!

A surf around the blogosphere is an absolute delight. Yesterday I found myself mesmerised by a person who blogs about clouds, a blog that encourages you to send in photos of yourself with a paper bag on your head, preferably in far flung and unusual places. But my favourite was the blogger who has dedicated himself to 'shopping' badly airbrushed or manipulated posters and magazine covers to the public.

Within moments I found myself marvelling at the fact that in one poster Lois Lane's arm does indeed appear to be 5 foot long! And did you know that in the film poster for Basic Instinct in Korea for some reason Sharon Stone was photoshopped so she'd have wet hair, but in the mirror behind her she's still got, yes, you guessed it... dry hair!

DA DA DAH!

Yes, folks it's another heinous photoshopping crime solved by our mysterious blogging wunderkind! We can all sleep easy in our beds knowing he's on the case! I for one am SO relieved.

Oh yes, if you've not yet sampled the delights of the blogosphere you are missing out, dear ones. There's a whole planet of weirdness out there!

And then, just when you're about to take your hallucination meds, you see something that's actually quite useful...

So I leave you with clever idea of the day. Virtual weight loss, courtesy of Weight View... www.weightview.com
Sign up, upload a photo and BOOM! they send you back the same photo of you but at your goal weight. Quick tip...you need to sign up to facebook and invent a US zip code or it won't work.

But you can see above why I like it so much. Nothing like a little instant gratification to keep the pounds falling off!
P.S. Paperbag heads are optional!
P.P.S. I was in a far flung location too!

Flumoxed by fashion?

Looking about while out shopping the other day it struck me that when it comes to choosing clothes, lardy women like myself (shall we just shorten that to lardettes?) do appear to fall into two distinct tribes.

1. The 'Oh god, I'd die if I thought people were staring and laughing at my flabby bits so there's no way I'm wearing anything clingier than a tent' tribe.

OR

2. The 'I'll choose uber-tight clothes that enhance my spare tyres and reveal my muffin top with pride and I don't give a damn what anyone else thinks coz girlfriend I FEEL GOOOOD! ' tribe.

For the last decade I've generally sought comfort at baggy camp. Even the slightest notion that I might be inflicting my flab on the public would instantly drain the colour from my cheeks.

Now though I feel like I'm flailing around somewhere in the middle. I know I need the help of the fashion police but I've no idea who to ask.

You see, I've kind of lost it with Trinny and Susannah, Nicky HJ and Gok.

Since they first appeared on our tellys a few years ago they have made it abundantly clear that tent-life is no longer acceptable. So I really have been doing my best to try and adapt…

Gok: Baggy isn't flattering. It makes you look bigger girlfriend! OK, I'll try and get with the programme…

T&S: Got huge boobs? Wear deep V necklines. Hey, that does look better! Oi, hands off Susannah!

Nicky: Wide leg trousers will balance out your giant hips. Wow, AMAZING, that works too. Loving your specs by the way!

But then we got...

T&S: Your body is either an apple or a pear or a nectarine or a cucumber or a brick? WHHHAAAAATTTTT? You're having a laugh!

Then the magazines weren't being much help either. Take those photo features that start…

What swimsuit to buy IF YOU HAVE…

a) big boobs

b) a tubby tummy

c) thunder thighs

d) swimmer's shoulders

But which, funnily enough, never remembered to add a suit for those of us who have ticked…

e) all of the above!

So what now? What is the answer for the likes of me and my kind? Should we form our own fashion tribe and, if so, what should we wear?

Gok: That's easy, girlfriend. Just take your scissors, cut away one panel from that family-sized tent of yours and add a nice chunky belt! Sorted!

All in the mind?

Considering how ropey things were getting on Friday, on reflection, I'd have to count last week as a full-on success.

Because despite a strawberry tart, steak and chips, a chocolate desert to die for, a few glasses of Merlot and a couple of other edible compadres from my decadent past slipping through security and flooring me with their charms, I have somehow STILL managed to lose 2lb.

Yes, it seems I am indeed mastering the cunning arts of risk management and positive thinking!

* Prior to the steak and chips, said evil chocolate desert and Merlot, I did propel myself round a park a few times resulting only in minimal casualties (they should ban those long dog leads!), so I earned it, right?

* Before I allowed that strawberry tart to whisper its sweet nothings in my direction, I got in the mood with a quick sprint along the beach at St Andrews. Well, ok, that's a lie, but I did do some pretty impressive slow motion Chariots of Fire-style running along that beach!

Yeah, yeah, you can mock if you like but, according to modern neuroscience, thinking is quite often as just as good as doing. (Inner Sloth is with me on this one!)

So I'm going to keep it up. Only next time I'm doing my slo-mo running along the West Sands I think I'll be Pammy from Baywatch instead. Those 1920s long-johns didn't half itch.

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PS.If you've just turned up, I was pimping my blog yesterday. Why not try out the groovy new comments feature below...don't be shy now! You can do it!

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P.P.S. Not kidding about that mind over matter stuff...check out scientist and author Dr David Hamilton on the matter...no, really!

Earth to the blogosphere....come in, do you read me?

Yeah baby yeah! I'm pimping my blog! Oh hello! Don't mind me...just talking to myself as I go....tum dee dum dee dum, oh would you look at that lovely blue box that's just appeared down below...it's a new comments feature that makes it easier for folks to have threaded conversations. Maybe that'll encourage my lovely readers to talk to me and spur me on...
OK...let's give it a go!

So come on folks...Got any snippets of wisdom that'll help me on my quest? Got any questions? Want to set me a challenge (that doesn't involve running or fish?)

Don't keep it to yourselves...Out with it!

And by the way, as it's now Sunday evening, are you ready to 'get your stuff done' tomorrow or are you by any chance procrastinating like this guy?...