Fat Club – Week Eight & Nine

I’m about as handy as a dog lead made of sausage, so my attempt to fix my washing machine was bound to go awry. According to Pete on the Google, it’s easy peasy: if the water in your washing machine won’t drain, just whip off the back and check to see if anything is stuck in the pump. For some reason, Pete saw fit to fish out a pair frilly knickers by way of demonstration. My knickers, which haven’t seen hide nor hair of a frill in many years, are unlikely to fit in a narrow washing machine pump, still, I followed pervy Pete’s instructions – except for the bit about clamping the hose, which was a shame, because when I unhitched said hose, all the water that was in the front of the machine came pouring out the back.

Pervy Pete’s instruction photo

When the chaps from the appliance shop delivered my new machine the next day, I was mortified to show them my failed repair attempt – which included sodden carpet, scattered parts, a fixing platform made of books and the distinct smell of stagnant water. I’m thinking Shirley – Shirley being my old machine – might have been broken for a while, which would account for the terrible clanking sound she’d been making for the past few years.

Shirl and Frank

Frank is my new machine, and despite his petrochemical smell, he’s brilliant…which is all very nice, but what do my washing machine woes have to do with Fat Club? Well, according to a new study (that study being a conversation between me and the stationery shop lady), the biggest threat to sticking to a diet is stress. So, anytime you manage to navigate a stressful situation and not self-sooth with sugar-coated trans-fat is a victory.

As I mentioned last time, the sheer boredom of dieting can be a deterrent to success as well. Most of the time you inch along with no tangible benefit to all your dull living; until, every now and then, a benefit pops up – like my coat button I can do up and, as I discovered the other day, the fact that I can run without dying, which is all thanks to shedding 20 pounds.

Actually, scratch that. 19.5 pounds. I went to the Fat Club weigh-in last night and it appears I have put on half a pound. I’m not sure why, as I was as dull as ever all week and even managed a couple of  runs, during which I didn’t die. Perhaps my Potato Famine genes thought I was running from a hungry neighbour and went into fat-retaining overdrive thinking I might need to hide under a bush without food for a few days. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t feel good to go backwards.

Not only was Fat Club stink weigh-in wise, but I was also a billy-no-mates, due to the absence of Daisy, Maisy and Mabel. Actually, Mabel is on a Fat Club hiatus at the moment, in favour of enjoying life with the aid of cheese cake, pork pies and gin. She said she may come back in the summer, which would be great because, if last week is anything to go by, I will likely still be there.

Maisy couldn’t make it due to a dog thingamajig she had to attend. Maisy has a gorgeous dog called Bonnie, who is both delightful and, thanks Maisy’s care and attention, the happiest dog in the world. Having grown up as a cat person, I’d never been that fussed about dogs, until, that is, I met Maisy. You see, Maisy is something of a dog-whisperer, and witnessing the way she communicates with dogs has enabled me to see them in a whole new light, and now I genuinely love them…well, mostly I just love Bonnie and my brother’s dog, Tom; still, it’s a start. Maisy even bestowed on me the great honour of looking after Bonnie one day. We got on like a house on fire and had a lovely time together until we came-a-cropper with a cat and a car…otherwise known as ‘the incident.’

Bonnie, pre & post ‘the incident’

Despite her broken foot and 4 months rehabilitation, ‘the incident’ traumatised me far more than it did Bonnie, and I still feel anxious when I think about it (including now as I’m writing this). On the plus side, although ‘the incident’ brought my half a day dog-minding career to an abrupt end, it did help me bond with Bonnie, and now I love her to bits and get just as excited as her when we see each other.

As for Daisy, she missed Fat Club in favour of a well earned break, after a gruelling week of work, late night child-minding and generally helping everybody out. Daisy is one of the people I most admire in life;  she is sweet and funny, has formidable organisational skills and a moral compass that would make Gandhi look a bit wayward. She may be small, but she’s not afraid to tell anyone a few home-truths, and if she does it while wagging her finger…look out!. I’ve been on the receiving end of a couple of Daisy’s lectures in my time – which, I admit, have been on point – but, I am pleased to say, never the finger.

You don’t mess with the finger!

Despite my gain last week, I am determined to keep going – not least because, if I gain half a pound while on a diet, goodness knows where I’ll be if I go back to my old ways. Besides, as Daisy said the Fat Club leader said,

Losing weight isn’t a straight motorway, its more like a country road, all twists and turns, with hills to climb, then downhill; so keep heading for your destination and you’ll get there.

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