After over-indulging in Christmas festivities, many people will make a new year’s resolution to join a slimming club.
There’s a definite comfort in joining like-minded, supportive people with a shared goal who are being led and advised by someone who definitely knows about weight-loss because they have a recent obligatory photo of themselves wearing some over-sized, large comedy trousers.
Knowing that some larger people are too unhealthy to move, some big slimming companies will helpfully, keep kitchen exercise to a bare minimum by producing their own range of calorie-controlled microwavable meals in easy opening slide-out packets.
Alternatively, slimming firms will cunningly pre-design their own recipes to contain at least one item that you won’t have indoors to get you up and running to the shops to burn off some calories.
Which is why dieters can be easily recognised in the supermarket aisles because they’re the only people hunting for chickpeas, fennel and cannelloni beans.
Presumably, if they had all these weird foods in their cupboards instead of cupcakes, they probably wouldn’t be overweight in the first place.
Dining with a slimmer is a nightmare because as much as you’d like to eat steak and chips in their company, you can’t because it’s considered insensitive as they diligently count their daily allowance points tally on their phone app in front of you.
Some slimming clubs have very weird rules. They’ll tell you to watch your weight but dislike you using your own scales to weigh yourself. How is that possible, then?
They’ll claim they don’t want you to overly obsess about your weight but by banning you from weighing yourself, that’s exactly what they make you do, making you fear going onto their scales once a week at the commonly termed “dreaded weigh-in.”
Little wonder, a person who’s been relieved to lose a couple of pounds that week, will feel obliged to instantly reward themselves with something from Greggs and “be good for the next 6 days – hopefully.”
Happy New Year.