I scraped through Fat Club by the skin of my teeth this morning. And my total loss of weight was a big, fat zero. Yup, I hadn’t lost a pound. Not even a half pound.
I pitched up early to the meeting to avoid getting sucked into the horror of it all and to take advantage of there being no queue for the scales. I’d been nervous about this week’s weight loss because of the terrible complacency that last week’s six pound loss had engendered in me. Basically, I’ve been letting myself have ‘a little treat’ every day without really adding up the Fat Points…. and it’s come back to haunt me. I guess it all started back last Thursday with the victory Creme Egg.
Maybe I need to rethink what constitutes a victory in this Fat Race… is it me losing weight or it just me trying to piss of Obergrupenfuhrer Fat Club Leader? I suspect I might have my priorities skewed somehow.
Last night, the scales at home said I’d lost half a pound, but I wasn’t taking any chances so this week I went to Fat Club wearing the lightest clothes I could find; I even ditched the jeans, figuring they must weigh at least a pound.
When I got there, the room was empty apart from the old lady on the sign in desk, the Frumpy Fat Minion and OFCL and she saw me coming. I de-robed as per, removing even my hat and iPod and tentatively stepped up on to the elephant scales, willing myself thin as I went and fearful of OFCL’s smirk if I had gained.
“Ah… not quite the same success this week, eh?” she said with a distinct look of pleasure in her mean little eyes. “You’re the same as last week,” she announced loudly as she jotted down the figures on my Fat Card. “Exactly the same actually… no weight lost… none,” she smirked. “Oh well, you can’t get it right every week can you?” She looked up at me, “So what do you think you did wrong this week then?” she asked in her most condescending voice, expecting me to squirm and wriggle. (Which I was doing… on the inside.)
I mustered my best confident voice. “Well, it was my daughter’s birthday and I fell off the wagon rather in the Choccywoccydoodah Cafe,” I confessed. “So I wasn’t expecting great things this week,” I said, making sure she knew that I wasn’t about to collapse under the disappointment of not losing a pound or two. “Entirely my own doing,” I said with a forced smile. And with that, Frumpy Minion (OFCL’s not-so-little helper) piped up from her perch in the corner, “Oooooh, do you mean that chocolate place that’s on the tele?”
“Yes, that’s the one,” I smiled at her, “It’s amazing and there’s no point trying to find a low fat option in there,” I laughed. “You just have to give into it and love it.”
“What did you have?” asked Frumpy Minion with a desperate look of longing in her eyes.
“Well, a nibble or two of cake, but a big huge cup of proper, melted hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows. It was heaven!” I enthused as Frumpy Minion began to drool at the prospect.
“What is this place?” snapped OFCL, clearly feeling left out of the whole thing and wondering if it was the enemy at large.
“Oh my goodness, it’s the most wonderful place,” gushed Frumpy Minion, suddenly full of the joys of spring. “They make these amazing giant cakes and everything is just COVERED in chocolate. It’s unbelievable…!” She was almost swooning at this point at the thought of all that yummy, chocolaty goodness.
“Well, there you go then. No wonder you haven’t lost this week,” barked OFCL, trying to seize back control of the conversation. “You’ll have to try twice as hard next week and HOPEFULLY you will manage to lose a pound or two.”
There was a pretty icy silence as Frumpy Minion and I remembered where we were. Not lapping at chocolate fountains in the Choocywoccydoodah Cafe, but standing by the scales at Fat Club. And we felt suitably reprimanded for our nasty, fatty behaviour.
I pulled my boots, jumper, hat and coat on in the awkward silence that prevailed. Truth is, OFCL was absolutely right. Scoffing cake won’t help shed the pounds; but then I’d known that before I walked in of course. Frankly I was just pleased that I hadn’t gained weight; I’m not sure I could have faced her if the dial on the scales had gone up rather than stayed the same. “Well then, see you next week,” I said quietly as I gathered my last things together and shoved my Fat Card into my bag.
“Bye then,” murmured Frumpy Minion as I walked past her. And then suddenly, eyes bright and shining, she blurted out, “Did you see the amazing cakes?”
“Yes I did. They are really something else.” I moved closer to her. “In fact, we had one for our wedding cake last year,” I whispered in an almost conspiratorial tone. Frumpy Minion’s face assumed a look of shock, not unlike someone who has been smacked in the face by a large, wet fish. “Oh my god! What was it like?” she stammered.
“Utterly. Bloody. Amazing!” I said, “best cake ever!” and stomped off out of the room, ignoring the comments and glares of OFCL as I went.
No victory Creme Egg this week. But a bit of a wake up call. I need to do what I so glibly told OFCL I had done last week: eat less.
Calories in; calories out: that’s all folks!