Drama of the most disturbing kind. This week I bought a set of scales. No not for measuring food, but for measuring the result of all the food that has been thrown down my chops in the past few years. I am not a great believer in weighing myself for several reasons 1. I know I’m overweight and don’t need a set of scales to tell me and 2.I’m not good with numbers anyway – at least not the sort that creep up and up confirming my metabolic rate is zero.. But,being an inveterate bargain hunter when I Saw a set of scales in IKEA for £3 I knew I could not resist. In fact they were in the trolley before I could say chaffing thighs. After unpacking everything else in the car I turned my attention to the cork covered fat confirmers and carried them into the house under my coat hiding them from any possible neighbours. Why? I don’t know I’m a columnist not a psychologist. Anyway I went through the inevitable dilemna .Will I weigh myself now or will I wait til it is 6am I am naked and haven’t eaten for hours. Foolishly I went for the former. I stepped on them as confidently as I could and watched in horror as the needle leapt to an unfeasibly high number which caused me to stand gauping for a second before stepping off as the pit of my stomach knotted and an instant depression kicked in. The darn things had confirmed what I knew already – You don’t get Yasmin Le Bons Thighs by eating crisps and lots of pies.. So I did the only thing possible in such circumstances I boiled the kettle and paced the floor until David came home. The second the poor man came in the door he heard the dulcet tones of his loving wife saying ‘Get on these scales and weigh yourself’ Used to such charm he put down his stuff and stepped on. I watched as his healthy glow changed rapidly to a sickly grey and he looked at me and just managed to gasp ‘Oh My God’ before getting off. Reaching for another biscuit I declared ‘ They must be wrong’. ‘ ‘Yes’ he agreed enthusiastically ‘They must’. It was about this time Louis the bounding child came into view ‘What’s wrong with you two ?’ He asked as his parents stood ashen faced staring at the weighing machine. ‘Nothing dear’ I said as breezily as an official tub could muster. And so he leapt on them ‘ Great!’ he squawked I’m four stone! Thrilled that he weighed more than ever this proved to him he was turning into a big strong Samson like boy and so he danced around the flat smiling. At least someone was happy.
‘I’m going out tonight to Fiona’s birthday party’ I said to David gravely ‘I’m taking them with me’. So as all the other guests arrived brandishing wine, cake and chocolates they were a little bemused to see me produce a set of cork scales from my handbag. ‘I need to weigh you’ I announced.Yeh right.
Being women they all looked at me, rolled their eyes and refused. Eventually after a couple of glasses one of them climbed aboard. She too looked crest fallen
‘As I suspected I’ve put on heaps of weight’ she mumbled as she took refuge in a bowl of KP Nuts. Two more did a similar thing and then little Dynamite Di ,came in. Dynamite had had her annual medical that very day by coincidence and thus had been on a very up to minute and precise set of scales. She got on and shrieked ‘ ‘my God they’re a stone out’…there was a silence. Someone had to ask. We had to know.
‘Up or down?’ I ventured ‘Up!’ she replied. Halleluiah. From a gathering of the very depressed and podgy we reverted to a gathering of crisp eating, chocolate nibbling, wine swilling slappers so very relieved were we all by this wonderful news.
SOofor Fionas birthday she got to bin the scales and off we merrily went. Slept late and long for various reasons and so missed David in the morning. By the time he came in that evening I was feeling rehydrated and very chipper and was concerned to see him looking so glum. ‘Whats wrong with you’? I enquired ‘ I have never been so heavy in my life I am going to have to go on a’ gulp and dramatic pause ‘ diet’.
The poor soul had gone through the entire day thinking he was turning into Giant Haystacks as I had completely forgotten to tell him the fabulous news! He cheered up immediately when he realised his 6 pack wasn’t that dim a memory. Now all we have to do is break the news to Louis that the World Wrestling Federation won’t be calling him quite yet. Still onward and upward and not outward well much.
