Don’t you just love the *tink tink* of ice circling in a tall glass. A classy little sound effect, whispering sophistication. That soothing, enticing swirl as you watch the glass and contents settle and your taste buds come alive at the prospect of that first sip. The sleek (eco-warrier friendly) metal straw turns cold to the touch. Your stomach pangs. Do I need this at 7.20 am? Chilled glass against soft clammy hands. Silver straw to slightly parched lip. Liquid coats slightly stale tongue. Cheeks prick, salivate, and stomach applauds. There we have it. The cure in a glass. One sliced lemon on the rocks, iced water, please. That’ll do it. That’ll reboot my system and re-start the diet. It’s Monday January 18th. I’m squinting out the window into the dark while counting calendar days on fingertips. It can’t be? Can it? 2021 and so far I’ve successfully started and re-started my diet 4 times. 4 times?! Aged 28 (weeks from 29) I still cave, I still fail, and I still cling to the hope lemon water works. But that’s part of the fun right? ‘Hope’. Without hope, would we go on? Would we even try to better ourselves? Every, damned, year..? Pah! Shrug it off…this effort is worth it! This is a note to all my fellow yo yo-dieters. At least we’re trying! After a very tough year for so many people, let’s be kinder to ourselves than normal. Let’s certainly refrain from over-stuffing ourselves EVERYDAY. But sometimes, some days we just neeed that little lift from food. Ah food. Glorious food. Yet as I suddenly retrace the weekend I’m reminded how the cheat ‘meal’ Friday evening instead commenced Friday lunchtime and lasted until Sunday night, 9.15 pm to be precise. I could say I finally filled my glutinous stomach to the point of no return — like a boxing ring referee — waving frantically ‘No more’, ‘K.O’! But alas no, ALL the snacks had just run out, and I was (thankfully) unwilling to run to the shop. All that remained in the fridge were greens, some goat cheese and rye bread. Don’t think I didn’t contemplate how that could weld itself into a sandwich, don’t you dare. So anyway there it ended, despite my selfish brain pleading for more, more.
As the new week begins with the light from outside slowly turning from pitch black to silver grey, I think to myself — get a grip. Yes be kind, but stop with the nonsense. You know exactly what to do, how to do it and CAN do it. Cheat meal — yes meal — is Saturday. Until then just be good. NO sugar, no carbs. I love healthy eating — genuinely do. Satisfied and with deep breaths through the nose I sip some more lemon goodness and enjoy the palate cleansing benefits. As if reading my mind, with a genuinely guilt ridden air my boyfriend says ‘Don’t know about you but that fish and chips from last night feels like it’s stuck between my ribs and throat. I am so ready to detox’. I respond with a tight lipped knowing smile and nod in agreement as he shakes his head and sighs out the anguish of another unnecessary artery clogging takeaway, slowly dragging himself upstairs.
And I stop and wonder. If I was really quick — put my runners on and run quick — could I possibly sneak out and back for a large cappuccino and chocolate croissant before he’s even out of the shower?