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!
