AFTER six weeks, I have not given up. If I haven’t posted for a while, it’s not because the lack of calories has left me bedridden and devoid of energy. It’s just because not eating is pretty boring, there’s not much to say.
Normally I’d have the same feeling of self-control regarding the Ferrero Rocher question anyway, but only after about six or seven of the ambassador’s finest. Not immediately.
Having said that, it is working, albeit slowly.
I won’t be giving Kate Moss a run for her money anytime soon but the danger of becoming obese is receding. For the past week, I have managed to remain under twelve stone. I’m impressed with that. Losing more than half a stone isn’t bad (a whole stone on a good day) and overall, it’s been less painful than chopping off my arm which, although might be a speedy if drastic form of weight loss, would prevent me from wielding cutlery with the enthusiasm that I feel a good meal deserves.
The Rollercoaster of ChubbyThe weight loss is gradual because, if you looked at it like a graph (which you can with many different apps), it would resemble a roller-coaster. There’s the thrill of hurtling downwards, pounds dropping off like no-one’s business. Then, the rest of the week, post-fast, follows with its attendant pleasures: cooking, eating and a weekend of wine and beer.
After that, it’s a slow chug back up the chubby track until the next fast day. However, with each new descent, your weight plummets to a new low and after each gourmet indulgence, your weight climbs, but not to the dizzy heights of the previous end-of-week scale-shaker.
Fast days are rubbish. There’s no getting away from it. While there are cookery books connected with this diet that extol the virtues of grapefruit salad for breakfast, the clue is in the name. It involves fasting. That is, not eating. Or not much anyway.
I can’t usually be bothered to cook. By the time you’ve had a big bowl of cereal and a banana, a couple of slices of Ryvita is pretty much all you’ve got to look forward to.
I love cooking and my self-enforced banishment from the kitchen isn’t ideal but it works. I have made sushi on a fast day before because it’s rather saintly as far as food goes but unlike most low-calorie food, it’s lovely. A hell of a lot more satisfying than a stick of celery.
With sushi, a fast day almost seems like a feast day. That could have more to do with my cavalier approach to calorie counting. It’s more like a rough approximation than rigid food accountancy. I have downloaded a nifty little app called MyFitnessPal which does most of my calorie counting for me but when I do prepare something myself, I can confound this electronic pedant and get a bit creative with my mathematics.
Tha Ambassador's FinestI also make sure I fast on the days when I am busiest. Idle hands and all that. While the obvious selling point of this diet is that you are supposed to be able to eat normally the rest of the week, occasionally you do find yourself thinking – at 72 calories a pop, do I really want another Ferrero Rocher after going through yesterday’s hair shirt experience?
That must be how it gets you. Normally I’d have the same feeling of self-control regarding the Ferrero Rocher question anyway, but only after about six or seven of the ambassador’s finest. Not immediately.
Mojitos: Sugar Rush
It’s not guilt on a plate. I’ve enjoyed many a calorie fest, from the heady sugar rush of a stream of mojitos to the dirty joys of pies, burgers and chicken kebabs. But you do have second thoughts about all those naughty little snacks.
No more snaffling down a mini Scotch egg as you walk past the fridge without even batting an eyelid. No more resembling the rounded curves of a mini Scotch egg.
