FOOD GLORIOUS FOOD
I am a fairly level-headed person normally but there are certain events, gadgets , problems, and situations that irritate me occasionally.
But then I say to myself, take a chill pill, dust yourself down and start again. Today I write a few lines about a regular irritant in my life.
I have always been a wee bit on the heavy side with my weight yo-yoing up and down within certain parameters. This is, in the main thanks to my genes and a fondness for regular visitations to food supplies.
I sometimes overeat the wrong foods. I weigh myself and then decide for the umpteenth time in my life that what goes on must come off. The plan is very simple. I just must eat less, cut down on the portion sizes, avoid those calorie enriched foods and continue the exercise routine.
I always make Monday my start date and you know you get that horrible feeling when you must confront yourself and your failings .There is no one else to blame and you must face the weight measuring truth commissioner on your own.
This paragon of virtue and correctness is conveniently located in an en-suite and is never tempted to give an encouraging reading. I look down and am afraid to view the screen. When I pluck up enough courage to have a peep, I gaze at it in disbelief. That must be wrong, I just could not have put up seven pounds since my last period of sensible living.
I check with senior management, and I enquire if the batteries have been changed lately because I was getting false readings. This was easily checked when I am asked to step aside, whereupon the boss checks her own weight and lo and behold her weight is perfect.
My weight commissioner has given an accurate honest reading for me and so I have no choice but to start another weight awareness and diet programme. This is the one gadget in the house you cannot change or bribe or cajole.
We were going for a planned outing that day. We promised ourselves an afternoon coffee and nothing else, but you know when a waitress asks you if you would like something to eat. That always poses a dilemma for me. Some people can stick with the coffee, but I would not like to disappoint the waitress when she has that notebook poised and pen ready to take down the food order. She lists all the choices they have available, and my eyes are popping out of my head and my mouth salivating when I see all the lovely scones and tarts being served around me. I relent and get all the works, fruit scone with butter jam and cream. It was lovely.
Now, having devoured the lot I feel guilty and start promising myself that this was a one-off slippage, and I would confine myself to the coffee on its own on future visits.
That mortal dietary sin was committed in Wexford town during our first break out after the recent cocooning lockdown. We were dining outdoors and as we were halfway through we felt the good lord releasing a lovely shower of rain on us. The waitress very kindly gave us a loan of her brolly, so while I transgressed the calory rules the good Lord and weatherman punished us with some summer wetting rain.
Having dined we strolled up the street and visited a few shops to browse around till the rain passed over. Later on, we headed for the car and the journey home.
When we reached the homestead, we changed out of our still damp clothes, before setting up the evening tuna salad, generously loaded with lettuce, scallions, coleslaw, couscous, beetroot, a few olives, and sun-dried tomatoes for taste. A portion of Vegenaise and green pesto were added to improve the flavour. I felt good about eating healthily again after my mid-afternoon indiscretion.
And so, having dined and tidied up we watched some TV and lazed about for an hour. We then went for a night-time stroll around the block to stretch the legs and clock up the remaining steps to achieve our 10000 daily total.It might also knock off a few of the calories I had added on during the day..
Morning came and I went and reported to the truth and weight commissioner. Now the window was close by, and my unforgiving, unrelenting paragon of virtue and dispenser of generally bad news had the audacity to tell me that I had gained a pound since our last encounter .I was tempted to dispose of it out the open window.
That was hard to take so I took out my camera phone and took a photo of the figures displayed and made a solemn pledge to myself that those figures would not appear on that screen when yours truly checks in with it next time.
It’s at times like this I can empathise with those people on Operation Transformation who pump the roads, watch the diet, do crazy exercise, and come in and see their weight increased and revealed to all the nation after all their exertions.
I often think most of our lives are one continuous series of Operation Transformation. The annual public health and weight awareness campaign on Live national TV is a tremendous positive event for the population of Ireland and does great good for young and old.
I must say I have improved a lot since my Wexford slip up except for a few slices of birthday cake which I consumed on family occasions. I paid the price for these too with my scaley public enemy number one telling me the horrible truth. On each occasion I took immediate corrective action, and I am now on reasonably good terms with my good friend the scales, my health-adviser /the paragon of virtue, the truth and weight commissioner.
Hail to my new-found friend, my salvation, my saviour, my bathroom scales. It is no longer in danger of destruction by taking flight from an upstairs window.
We will survive and emerge as a slimmer fitter self eventually when I will scale new heights in fitness.