Not even my new dieting buddy can keep me from the pre- Christmas binge
I was invited to a talk on nutrition last week and I decided to go along for the craic. It was a Monday evening and there was feck all on the telly, what did I have to lose?....... My dignity as it turned out!
I had no sooner sat down when I realised there was a little bit more going on than a chat on nutrition. Girls of all shapes and sizes were being called into another room by a lanky looking fella in a tracksuit and coming back out again five minutes later looking sheepish.
'What's going on?' I asked the girl beside me. 'Oh he's weighing everybody in,' she explained. I nearly had heart failure. 'What?! Nobody said anything to me about being weighed.' I began frantically trying to figure out how I was going to lose a few pounds in the next five minutes.
Cowering in the corner behind a pillar, I thought I'd gotten away with it and was just heaving a sigh of relief when he called my name. 'Justine, you're the last,' he said beaming at me. 'Ah you're alright,' says I. 'I know how much I weigh.'
'Yes but I don't, so come on, up you come and then we'll all have a chat about how we're going to get in shape for Christmas.' I reluctantly followed him up the stairs to a room with a big scary looking scales in the middle of the floor.
I surveyed my clothing - Jeans, jumper, boots and a jacket, sure they alone must weigh about four pounds I mused. 'Can I take my clothes off?' I enquired. Mr. Motivator nearly lost his life! 'Eh.....No! But you can take your shoes off.' Big of him.
I did as I was told and gingerly approached the scales. He fiddled around with it then told me to step on. At first I decided I wasn't going to look but then curiosity got the better of me. The numbers kept climbing and I would've screamed Stop but I was rendered speechless.
'Sh**e" I muttered when it finally came to a halt.
'Ah it wasn't that bad, you're grand' said Mr. Motivator. 'Yeah well it would've been a whole lot bloody better if you'd let me take my clothes off,' I muttered.
The upshot of all this was he paired us off with anonymous buddies who we were supposed to text every night for a week, to encourage them to keep up the good work and step away from the treats.
To be fair it worked quite well until Friday when I went out on my first Christmas night out and texted my buddy, "can't send you message of encouragement tonight , I'm under the influence." She replied that everyone deserved a night off.
The next night I texted her to tell her I had my head stuck in a tin of Celebrations. She suggested I just have one or two. I ate all the malteasers and galaxies.
Sunday night I adopted the 'Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb' approach, and had a burger and chips before diving into the Fox's premium selection biccy tin.
My buddy is declining to comment at this stage. I am a lost cause!
New Ross Standard