Diets.

 

So around every other week I say to myself or to whoever is close enough for me to throw my attention seeking cries at, “I’m going on a diet!” This is usually followed with animated hand gestures, shit loads of wallowing, psychotic “you just called me fat!” accusations fired at my best friend, and then ordering takeaway to make myself feel better. I’ve never been on a diet in my life. And if I’m honest… I never will go on one because I have no will power. Unless somebody with a degree in medicine sits me down and tells me I am morbidly obese… then what you see is what you get.

Now I have dabbled in exercising and I’ve experimented with diet pills… BUT I only took one and it burnt my insides mimicking symptoms of meat sweats, so vowed never to take that again! I also failed to remember that a friend of mine was taken to hospital because she necked diet pills bought from the internet. Now chill out it wasn’t a cry for help… she just had an allergic reaction… ok and maybe took more than she should have! But puking her guts up and one ambulance ride later, all was well in the world.

Dieting is hard work. Like if you really do it properly and not just go about ‘nil by mouth’ chewing on cotton wool and rewarding yourself with a cube of cheese for your dedication to the cause. That honey is called anorexia and I don’t have the required skills to refrain from making light of the situation. I mean eating the right foods, actually partaking in exercise and keeping up the boring ass routine. And yes it’s boring. Anyone who says that eating a salad over a fat burger is a liar. True story. “Oh I’m simply full and supremely content after devouring this cracker with a light dust and air dressing,” Said nobody ever. My brother is a personal trainer and so I know how un-fun dieting and keeping in shape is... mainly because he would turn into a moody bastard when he would be training. Like if it makes you so friggin’ arsey… don’t do it! Eat a bucket of fried chicken instead. Instant gratification for the soul.

The best diet I can recommend would be the classic “Heartbreak Diet” also known as “You just got your ass dumped and life is truly fucking shit diet.” It happens to the best of us. And if you’re lucky you can just drop the weight without even trying. Talking from experience (obviously) you may feel like your world has collapsed and every song on the radio relates to your busted pointless heart, BUT due to the warmth and suffocation of depression… food becomes a thing of the past. Alcohol is your only friend… as is Bridget Jones, Love Actually and Notting Hill. The best thing is when people start commenting on your weight loss with “ooohh you look so good!’ and “wow you go guuuurl!” Ok nobody said ‘you go girl’ because this isn’t Sister Sister or Moesha… but you get my point. These same people told you that your curves are beautiful once upon a time, and now they are commending you for having a mental breakdown and picking up an eating disorder. As long as you can fit into a pair of skinny jeans at the end of the day… then happy days! By any means necessary.

We all are body conscious no matter how hard we try to say we’re not. Like we’re not gonna all hold hands, sway and empower positive mental attitudes because it’s bollocks. Those who say out loud… on purpose “I love my body and wouldn’t change a thing” are straight up lying. Nobody is happy with what mother nature gave us and that’s fine. Admission is the key to recovery. Being healthy and ‘in shape’ is a lifestyle… it’s not about starving yourself the weekend before just so your belly doesn’t sag over your jeans. But alas you’re probably going to do it anyways. Just work with what you got and do what I do… trick yourself that the Chinese take-away is healthy.

Rant: Bailing & Excuses

Bedroom Politics