Not counting the calories

‘Dad’ said my eldest daughter just after Christmas ‘we must spend more quality time together next year.’ So in January we kept the promise we had made to each other and I took up her invitation to join her at sessions of a slimming franchise.

We do seem to be rather at war with our food, don’t we? If we all followed the advice we hear and read each week about what we once thought was good and wholesome but is now dangerous, we would doubtless be in perfect health until we finally starved to death.

Discovering the sausages I have eaten and loved all my life have apparently shortened it dramatically made me take up smoking as a less dangerous alternative.

My first ‘group’ was an interesting experience. Going into a strange environment in which everyone seemed to know everyone else, where the language was different to an amazing degree and all knew the rules except me was humbling. It made me realise what it’s like to go to church for the first time.

Our wonderful consultant gave an inspiring talk of such evangelical zeal I was hooked straight away. Yes, I want to be confident, happy and fulfilled and if eating less fat would achieve that then I would go for it! And although I didn’t know what it meant, hell yes, I want to drop a dress size, too!

There were other blokes there but we didn’t make eye contact. Real men, it seems, don’t admit what women are more likely to; that being overweight is actually detrimental and an issue that should be dealt with before it becomes chronic and lead to all sorts of health problems.

As it turns out, I rather like what we have to follow. The food is good. Tasty and plentiful and although it takes a bit longer to prepare it’s worth the effort.

Losing six pounds in the first week, I tried on my new cassock. I’m not sure what the Archdeacon thought when I asked him if he thought my bum looked big in it.

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