Lady Lunchalot

The other day O stepped off the bathroom scales and sadly announced that he has gained 8kg since we met 18 months ago.

It’s all my fault. I take full responsibility.

You see, I have the unfortunate habit of showing my affection for people through food. So when O and I met I went into major cooking mode. He likes to eat, I like to cook - we’re a match made in heaven!

But it wasn’t just O who suffered. My waistline had a pretty bad blow-out of its own. I was 57kg when we met in April and had billowed up to 65kg within ten months. It was just all too easy to get carried away in cupid’s culinary wonderland of cosy dinners for two.

Eventually my old jeans were relegated to the back of the wardrobe and all I could fit into were my fat pants. You know, these were the jeans I previously saved for events like seafood buffets on the Gold Coast with my mum, or consoling a girlfriend over a breakup and eating my own body weight in icecream. They were my post-Christmas-lunch pants. My feeling-bloated-PMT-pants. My no-one’s-looking-so-I’m-going-to- eat-all-the-leftover-chocolate-pudding- straight-out of-the-pan pants.

It got so bad that any time I wore a vaguely low-cut top my friend Stuart started saying things like “Taking the puppies out for a walk tonight, are we?”. I explained my dilemma. O and I were both stacking on the pounds because I have the nasty habit of expressing my love through food, and let’s face it, I had fallen in love big time.

Stu told me not to worry. He said it was just happy fat, and that the extra couple of inches muffin-topping over the waistband of my jeans were more than offset by the happy glow of being in L-O-V-E.

That sounded pretty good to me. “Happy fat” became my new mantra as I dressed every morning, so I went with that theory until it dawned on me that Stuart had barely weighed more than 70kgs in his life and knew NOTHING about how it felt to be… cuddly. He would even go as far as to pinch the skin on his hip into a teensy fold and complain about his love handles. Ergh.

So I tried to be good, and eat more salads and soups instead of casseroles and stews. I’d be a saint for a week and then we’d invite friends around for dinner on the weekend, and before you knew it I’d whipped up a roast rack of pork with apple sauce, crackling and creme brulee for dessert, and any thought of watching my waistline had flown out the window.

And then, O unwittingly came up with the only thing that could possibly motivate me to shed those kilos of happy fat.

A diamond ring and a wedding date!

Within a few days I had rented an exercise bike.

Within a week I had unearthed my weight watchers recipe books.

And within a month I had lost 4kgs!

I’ve still got a few more to go, but at least the puppies don’t get taken for walks like they used to.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 15th, 2006 at 10:03 pm and is filed under Half-Baked Food Thoughts . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.