Fat Fighters

Well I finally caved in to the pressure of  ”The Pig” constantly moaning about my eating habits and joined Fat Fighters last night. On Mothering Sunday he said “look at you, you are fat and lazy” and in my head, my crazy brain responded with ”f@@k off, boll@@ks your a c@@t”. Bloody hell, if you can’t be lazy on Mothers Day when can you? and this was after I got up at 7am, unloaded the dishwasher, put some washing on, tidied up and swept through downstairs, did a pile of ironing and peeled the parsnips and sprouts, made tea when our guests arrived, and cleared up the mess he made whilst cooking Sunday lunch that was not too dissimilar to  “Hiroshima” on a worktop!

 I re-loaded the dishwasher after dinner, bathed our little prince and finally sat down peacefully to watch “The City” (why am I not 23 and working for Diane Von Furstenburg in the Meat packing district of New York?) and then after a bit of blog reading – Lost. So that was it, the insult did it this time, even though I have been hearing something similar for the last 3 months.  No doubt his intention all along, has been to shock me into doing something about my ever expanding midrift – but does he have to be so cruel?
At Fat fighters, I told our local version of Marjorie Dawes, if I didn’t turn up in about 4 weeks time, she had permission to come round my house and drag me to her meetings by my hair! she found that rather interesting and wrote on my weighing in sheet “can pester by text, email and via facebook”. I explained to her that middle age spread (something I thought of as a falicy in my twenties and thirties) had taken over my waistline and that my muffin top now closely resembled a mountain top. She ran through the diet with me and issued me with some books telling me what I can and can’t eat and her mobile number should I need some support, midweek.

I came back from FF and “The Pig” asked what I weighed, I told him it was 1lb more than I thought I was.  Then he said “so your gonna pay £5 a week to stand on a set of scales, that in Boots would cost you 50p” “Yup” came my response, after all, I had already gone through the reasons I need to attend a club with him before I left.  He just shook his head and I, as usual, muttered some obsenity under my breath.