First of all I’d like to extend thanks to everyone who read and responded to my last post on the sorry state of current education in our country. It was heartening and depressing in equal measure to discover that we are not alone here in the UK –this seems to be a global issue: your replies and points that you raised were both interesting and supportive – thank you all very much.
Let’s move on to a lighter topic this week. Well I wish we could, but this week is all about weight: my weight. It’s not something I’ve ever had to watch or be bothered about, having been blessed with height and a speedy metabolism. I don’t have a sweet tooth either (apart for a penchant for chocolate) so I’ve never tucked into puddings with relish. My weight has remained around the same for the best part of thirty odd years, with occasional minor fluctuations of a few pounds either up or down – in the same way as stock market linked investments go up and down – it’s just a pity that my particular savings account is not travelling in the same direction as the needle on my bathroom scales.
I don’t even weigh myself that often so it came as a bit of a shock to discover that, just after Christmas, I was heavier than I’ve ever been. And I’m talking more than just a few pounds. How did that happen? I wasn’t aware of any clothes feeling tight. I don’t stick to a dress size either, I tend to buy things that fit rather than squeezing into a size for the sake of false modesty so a quick scan through my wardrobe revealed that I’m anything from a size 10 to a 16, depending on the make and cut.
So, what do I normally do when the fluctuations are heading in the wrong direction? Well, I cut down on the eating and exercise more. Simple. In a couple of weeks the needle on the scales is where it should be. Except that this time it isn’t. I’ve already designated myself a chocolate free zone until Easter and am eating only what I consider to be necessary foods – so no cakes, biscuits, buns, crisps, nuts – and slightly less of everything else.
That, as far as I’m concerned, is dieting, isn’t it? To be honest, I tend to switch off when people talk about their diets – I catch bits of conversations where they are earnestly debating calorie counting, eating just bacon for a fortnight or liquidised cabbage and fretting over their body mass index – but maybe I’m missing something.
I do have a theory, mind you. I’ve had my suspicions for a while but I’m pretty sure I’m right. Blogging is making us me fat. Not only is it fascinating to dip in and out of other people’s lives and thoughts it is another way to learn any amount of new things and I’ve been spending far too much time sitting in front of my computer screen rather than properly exercising.
Blog – it even looks like a ‘fat’ word to me – all those rounded letters – so I’m going to make a conscious effort to go back to some formal exercise. I know it can be done- my blogging pal, Red Hen, over in Southern Ireland runs and blogs (not at the same time, although I wouldn’t put it past her), about places she encounters while out running, providing a wonderful travelogue of her part of the world. Couple that with the way she writes and you’ll hear her Irish lilt coming through her words – and not even out of breath.
That’s all I’m going to say about my weight – I shan’t update you over every ounce – and I will still be reading all the blogs I follow. What I won’t be doing is getting side tracked along the way – and that will be much more difficult than keeping my promise to myself to eat less.
Well, there’s no point in cheating, is there?