Confession time. I’m a fat pasty. I’ve always thought of myself that way, although I’ve recently realised that when I thought it when I was younger, it wasn’t as true as I thought. It certainly wasn’t as true as it is now.
I can’t make any excuses. I eat too much. I know it. Everyone around me knows it. I occasionally try dieting. It hasn’t really worked yet. My problem is willpower, which is to say my lack of it. I’ve struck a deal with my wife (marrying a doctor has its downsides, too) that each Sunday morning I will be weighed, and she will read the scale. That was my idea — I need the accountability.
But I probably need extra
humiliation accountability to motivate me, which is why I’m following another’s example and going rather more public with the whole thing. This scares me, and it’s not something I do lightly.
I have a simple goal: changes to diet and lifestyle leading to sustained and sustainable weight loss at a safe and sane rate. There’s a whole industry built on dieting schemes and fads, but really it boils down to an old piece of advice — eat less and exercise more.
So here goes. This morning I stood on the scale and I was 21 st 2 lbs. Next Sunday morning I will stand on the scale again, and I will be less. I’d better be, or I have the web, and my wife, to answer to.