Large Scale Operation

It is perfectly possible to fall out with a person for a variety of reasons. Such is human nature that it is inevitable that opinions will clash, there can be misconstrued comments, simple misunderstandings, a few raw emotional moments or that realisation, mutual or not that there is nothing of merit or substance to make an attempt at ongoing compatability viable or worthy.

It is also quite feasible and reasonable to do the same with an inanimate object.

I am really referring to the love, hate, love relationship that I have with the bathroom scales.

I have only recently struck up a dialogue with them after perhaps a couple of years of dismissing their existence. The problem is entirely with me and no fault of the electronic device. I have simply shunned it because it insists on revealing the truth about how much I weigh.

Not content with just a straightforward display of my actual weight the scales add insult to hurtfulness by flashing up the ratio my body fat and also water content.

I of course understand the implications of an upwardly spiralling record of stones and pounds which has been the case in my forties but not the relevance of the other indicators of my wellbeing and longer term health. I have often defended my jowly cheeks and flabby midriff by commenting that my cholestrol level is remarkably low and I can easily startle the Practice Nurse by exhaling and sending the toilet roll tube-like lung capacity thing right across the treatment room. My wife reminded me only yesterday, over the chinese takeaway meal, that I had attended that particular Well-Man Clinic over a decade ago and that such physiological facts do change over a lifetime.

I accept that I have been in denial of my expanding waistline and  have even thought my man boobs and love handles to be akin to badges of honour to a typical male lifestyle. Something had to be done about it and without the expensive luxury of reverting to surgery or other such drastic measures.

Since August, I have been working to a regime that, if put into paperback or on interactive DVD, would certainly be a best seller as many other such plans have been for decades.

It is not based on an inner metabolic chemically based reaction with, to my knowledge, clammy skin or gaseous side affects nor reliant on eating food groups of the same colour on certain days. There is no strict combination of proteins or carbohydrates and I am not required to drink the equivalent of my body weight in mineral water or those pea-green coloured detox suspensions. I can tuck into a favourite cheese sandwich when the urge arises and succumb to the moorishness of a good proportion of a packet of biscuits at will.

There are noticeable results in that my chin count has diminished towards single figures. I do not now, some 4 months into the regime, struggle to tie up my shoelaces whilst in the drivers seat of my car- try it. Items of clothing at the back of the wardrobe which have strangely shrunk in recent years do actually almost fit which is encouraging and have been promoted to the front. Cliche's apart, I do feel that I have more energy but this has only made me aware of how unfit and unhealthy I must have been before the regime.

The plan?

There are just two key points. Cycle 100 miles a week mostly through mud or uphill. Eat less.

The bathroom scales seem to approve but then you would expect a bit of flattery from a new bestest friend.