Ok, so I have always been a little on the chunky side. As a baby, my christening gown (worn by several generations of my family) was held together at the back with a safety pin. When I was younger, being the biggest one in the family/group/class really bugged me and as a result I have been on every diet known to man: low calorie (snore!), Atkins (carbs are the enemy), Dukan (buckwheat pancakes all the way), 5:2 (a.k.a two very grouchy days a week) and most recently SlimmingWorld (help me for I have synned!). You name it, I’ve probably tried it. Fast forward 20-something years and not a lot has changed. Except one big thing; I just don’t care anymore.
Don’t get me wrong – I am watching my weight but it’s my attitude that has completely changed. I am overweight. I know that. But I also know that it is not the worst thing in the world. There is no pressure to reach any given weight by a certain date. And that has made the world of difference. I’m feeling better. I’m happier and oddly enough I’m losing weight better than ever before.
And to be completely honest – I do have a confession to make. I love food. Terrible isn’t it? It’s always been a big part of my life. Every night we would sit as a family round the dinner table and enjoy home cooked food (a time before smartphones thankfully!), we would go on holiday and eat fabulous local foods (it was my job from the age of 6 to order the daily bread and croissants from the Boulangerie in what I highly doubt was fluent French!) and at uni, friends were always grateful to eat something that required more effort than the opening of a packet. Even now, I love cooking with Mr M (another confession- I’m a bit of a feeder!). It’s genuinely a big part of my life and I don’t think that there is anything wrong with that.
I’m not saying health isn’t important – of course it is. But I also know that happiness isn’t going to come from seeing a certain number on the scales.
So maybe there can be cakes and ale?