52 Weeks

I’m one of those people who usually knows how long it is since something happened – the last time I saw a particular friend; what years we went on holiday to Germany; how many weeks we’re into the new year (11 and a bit, if you’re interested!) – for example.

This morning marks 52 weeks since I got up on a Monday morning, took a deep breath and weighed myself for the first time in quite a while. I got out a brand new notebook, wrote down the weight, looked up the appropriate calorie allowance in my Rosemary Conley cookbook and proceeded to follow a healthier lifestyle than the day before. [As an aside, on the same day I also met with a friend for coffee after they’d had a meeting at my office and went to a friend’s birthday meal where I ate my favourite stir-fried broccoli…I have a freakishly good memory for random things!]

52 weeks later and this morning I was lighter by 53 pounds. (Well, 53¾ officially, but who’s being pedantic?) I rather liked the symmetry of the numbers (though in some ways I’d have preferred it to be 52 in 52, though I’m definitely not complaining that it’s more!) and therefore used it as a Facebook status. It was one of those statuses which I pondered, wrote and immediately closed down the tab and ran away. Thing is, I haven’t shared much about this process in the general scheme of things, nor did I want to flaunt my achievement online and be perceived as boasting or even fishing for compliments.

I could go off on one about how I’ve done it and why, but this isn’t the time or the place. Suffice to say that I’m now convinced the only way to do it effectively is to approach it holistically – quite literally with mind, body and spirit. (If you want to know more, get in touch, but it’s probably way too random for even this random blog.)

What’s amused me most is the way that people (especially ones I really don’t know very well) have brought it up. Don’t get me wrong – receiving compliments well is important, but some of things people come out with are quite frankly hilarious:

  • “You’ve lost a lot of weight. Are you doing it intentionally?” [No. One day I woke up and it had all fallen off, just like that.] 
  • “How have you done it? I suppose you’re going to say something annoying like you’re eating sensibly and exercising…” [Yep, that would be exactly it – rocket science.] 
  • “Are you ill?” [Genuinely touched by the concern, but this was a very random thing to say. If anyone I know well thinks I look ill, please do tell me, but I barely knew this person!] 
  • “How much exactly have you lost?” [Unless you know someone well, or the information is offered to you, this question is just plain rude. There are also very few good responses to the answer you receive…] 
  • “When are you going to stop?” [The plan’s to continue the lifestyle forever, though I am not aiming for a size zero (4) – I strongly suspect the family’s hips don’t get much smaller than a 12.] 
  • “But I just saw you eat a [mini] flake, aren’t you dieting today?” [This was this afternoon, and it’s not a ‘diet’ it’s a lifestyle change – and nothing’s banned!] 
It’s a funny old thing, our obsession with weight/appearance/food/size. I’m kind of glad I wrote the Facebook status – not because of the compliments – but because I’ve just spent half an hour chatting to a random school friend as a result of it. Perhaps one day I’ll write a best-seller on the topic, but until then I’ll try not to become an attention-seeking lifestyle bore – if you suspect me of becoming one, do shut me up. Thanks. 

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