Fat.

I am overweight. I’m not talking morbidly obese but overweight enough that if I go to the doctors about an ingrowing toenail my weight will be mentioned. I’d probably get filtered out of a fair few online dating searches and I am fully aware that there is no point in me walking into Topshop. I’m one of the greedy, lazy and indulgent set that simply can’t resist stuffing their fat faces. I’m possibly at some point going to be a terrible burden on the NHS, employing Malaysian immigrants on a minimum wage to come in and wash my hard to reach places.  I’ve been a member of Weight Watchers, Rosemary Connelly, Slimming World, Sainsbury’s Diet Club. I followed the Cambridge diet, detox diet, the eat meat not carbs diet (can’t remember the chaps name). I been a member of LA fitness, David Lloyd. I’ve owned and thrown away two exercise bicycles, one set of steps and various ‘send off for’ sporting equipment. I have a wardrobe full of many sizes. I can tell you that my size 12 jeans are pristine, worn a handful of times in that brief blissful moment of successful dieting.

I am one of the greedy ones in a world of poverty and hardship. I feel like a criminal everyday. I am BBC stock footage for every fat crisis report. It’s fucking tragic isn’t it?  My hard life, feeling sad because I can’t ‘eat less and exercise more’. I'm crying into my pizza and chips right now. I could get off the sofa and go for a nice long walk, dance to music or vigorously clean my house. I could decide right now that food is no longer my special friend, that it is merely fuel to support my mind and body. In fact, I could go one step further and never think about what I eat ever again. I’ll just eat when I feel like it and if I want a chocolate bar I’ll eat it, instead of nibbling on all that crap diet food that always leaves me so dissatisfied and hungry. Surely that’s the answer?  If I still stop denying myself food I’ll find my own balance, after all we all know dieting makes you fat.  But the simple fact is I won’t. I won’t go for a long walk or dance vigorously j-cloth in hand, I’ll keep eating and eating and I’ll get fatter and fatter.

Therefore, I am constantly at the black gates holding  back of hordes of fat. It’s a daily battle. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose and the fat months prevail until I fight back with my steadfast companions: disgust and fear. This war is made even harder because I am always trying to lose weight, living on 1500 calories. An exhausting and relentless effort to not only hold back the hordes but to try and reclaim lost lands. Everyday of my life.  

Relentlessly too the fat-o-meter swings back and forth; tight jeans, comfortable jeans, tight jeans comfortable jeans. It never stops and I am always on guard.

Why is this such a struggle? I can’t make sense of it. Last May I gave up smoking; waving goodbye to a thirty year old habit. It wasn’t hard. Really. I did a bit of vaping, had a roll-up from a friend one night, sometimes sniffed the air of a passing smoker but the reality was that giving up smoking was a proverbial piece of piss.  I am organised, smart, practical and sensible. I don’t feel greedy. I’m not like Augustus Gloop stuffing my face full of pies. But somehow during the day I am secretly eating more than I should. It’s all very secret, my eating. You rarely see fat people overeating in public. I’ve hidden my eating  from my partner of twenty years. Everyday is a new day where I start in control and every day I fail. Then it all begins again the next day. I only need one slip and that’s it; my face is back in the fridge. Finally comes the self-loathing, the guilt and the hopelessness or maybe helplessness.

Unfortunately I’m not able to give any answers, if I could l’d have released a book and DVD. I sense that overeating is an addiction and an almost impossible one to beat at that. I know that overeating is far more complex than just the view that people are greedy and lazy. Why would anyone choose to live in a way that makes them deeply unhappy simply because they can’t resist a cupcake? Should we look at overeating as just another addiction? Should we start denying fat people that second burger at McDonalds? Refuse them the right to buy a multipack of Monster Munch? How about a twelve step programme to abstinence? (Although abstinence from eating could cause some serious health issues such as death).  Ultimately we all make our own choices, that’s our right,  but maybe if we  collectively start to acknowledge the complexity of overeating we can support rather than just condemn.

Adult Education is for Losers!

I once passed a church that proudly displayed a large poster, exclaiming that ‘Jesus is for Losers!’ I briefly pondered the implications of that message and then dismissed it from my mind.  However I recently joined an Adult Education Class that has somehow made this message relevant. It may seem like a tenuous connection but bear with me on this.

Many months ago, I sat eating a large pork pie in my  tracksuit bottoms, shouting at the greedy couple who wanted an extra two bedrooms for their gerbil on Escape to the Country, when I had a ‘road to Damascus moment’ and realised that my life was frankly quite sad.  Aside from work, children, the beloved Mr W and my entire back library of Game of Thrones I had nothing solely for me. I felt bored and restless and undefined for want of a better word.  My salvation came in the form of an Adult Education poster that passed my way.

Like many people of Britain,  I was secretly ashamed of my need. Isn’t  Adult Education for ladies with beards, making wicker open toed sandals, or for single men called Brian?  It surely isn’t the choice of normal people who have a life and are not afraid of spelling ‘fuck’ out in full on Twitter,  but I felt compelled to join and opted for Guitar Lessons for Beginners.

There is nothing more delicious and thrilling than walking into a room with ten complete strangers that have nothing in common with you other than the cheap guitar they have clutched in their sweaty hands. I nodded at everyone and noted that they all seemed like normal people with perhaps +2 ugly points, I smirked with relief and ignored the chap who said he was a beginner and proceeded to play the first two minutes of Stairway To Heaven. The rest of us were quickly united in our contempt of his expertise.  

Since then I have come to see my guitar lessons as something  entirely for me and as it  says in a Hallmark card “Happy people produce, bored people consume”, in my case a careful rendition of a Green Day song and fewer pork pies. Naturally I would never socialise with my fellow learners but it has become an unexpectedly rewarding part of my life and I look forward to our chats about sore fingers, the difficult F chord and the chances of developing RSS.

If you have rejected religion or never found it and feel lost, perhaps lonely, then Adult Education could be for you - seriously.  As I pass down the corridors and see rooms full of photographers, patchworkers and yes even wicker basket makers I can’t help but notice how content and happy everyone is.

I’d  like to evangelise more but I’ve got to go, just been asked to go for a pint of real ale with the cool kids from Guitar for Beginners. I am so in there!

Wanted! New Couple for Friendship - no key swappers please.

Mr. W and I are now in our forties and we are in that wonderful position of having children that can finally run a bath, make a drink and go to the toilet without informing us.  We both feel quite giddy with the freedom and I have to admit, feeling loved up. We can go to the cinema, stately homes, and Sainsbury’s; child free and ready to tut at the sound of crying toddlers. It all reads as good times. 

However we do appear to have lost one thing along the way, and that is, friends. I’m talking joint friends for joint activities. How has this happened?  I’m reminded of that old school poem; ‘Divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, moved away, new hideous partner’.  So many of our friends have spilt up and moved on or found new partners with sociopathic tendencies.  As a result of this Mr. W and I have a wine filled picnic basket and no takers.

I’m hoping that this is not an uncommon situation for couples of our age but where are you? Are you at home watching the Friday finale of Masterchef wondering why you’re not drinking G&Ts in a Surrey pub?

In desperation Mr. W and I are considering taking out a personal advertisement.

ISO 40+yr couple for friendship, no key swappers please.

GOSH, LTR, PnP (no clubs!) ALA

Must be able to talk about things other than your gifted and talented children, and how lucky you were to have bought a house in London before the prices went mad. 
Must not be health freaks (please no more running stories, please!)

Must be able to know where the CAPS key is on a keyboard.

Must not be at the end of your relationship (we’ve had enough of awkward, angry days out)

Must not vote Conservative (we are in professions that would make it difficult...really)

Happy to entertain those ‘with the Lord’ but no converting tendencies please, although partner is considering becoming a Buddhist, if that helps.

Finally WE  (Er...not necessary I think....Mr. W?) 

We’ll let you know if we find our perfect match.  I’m off to post this in our local ‘freebie’

Postscript: WE - Well Endowed (for the mildly curious)