Fat Club – Weeks Ten to Fourteen

History is littered with crazy weight loss regimes: including electrocution, arsenic, yogurt enemas and fat-reducing soap. No stranger to crazy, when I put on 1/2 a pound the other week, I knew it was time to bring out the big guns; so I dusted off my sauna suit and got ready to sweat like a mouse in a cat-lady’s pantry. For those not in the know, a sauna suit is a non-breathable latex garment designed to maximise the intensity of your workout. Its predecessor was the sauna pants (more kinky lace-up pantaloon than workout enhancer) which promised to make you liftable. Next came an inflatable variety, daubed the Health Wonder of America, which guaranteed to ‘wake up’ your body, never mind that you looked like a lilo.

It makes you  wonder if intelligent life on other planets have evolved to the point of inflatable exercise clothing?

The modern iteration of the sauna pants is the sauna suit. I first came across this wonder of human ingenuity at a carboot sale a couple of years ago. It cost me £5 and I bought it with the intention of giving it to my brother. My brother and I, like all good siblings, keep each other’s egos in check by pointing out the other’s flaws and having a jolly good laugh at them. Thinking he was looking rotund, I thought a sauna suit was just the ticket and relished the thought of presenting it to him. But, beguiled by the sauna suit’s promises and aware of my own bulbous state, I decided to keep it.

The outfit of champions!

The sauna suit is labelled an accelerator product; and what it does is accelerate the sweating process. As the material is non-breathable, all the heat generated by the body as you move about, is trapped in the suit, thus raising the body’s temperature and producing an impressive amount of sweat. You don’t have to go to great lengths to exert yourself either, you could check Facebook status, do the dishes or, if you don’t mind looking like a twit, pop to the shop for a pint of milk, and, hey pesto, puddles of sweat will form in your suit.

…well, little puddles anyway.

Me, I like dancing in mine. I put my music on real loud (through headphones of course, so as not to bother the neighbours) and happily prance around the room, sometimes with weights, sometimes just flailing my arms about. Over time I have taught myself to be light footed, because when I started – and this is true – the fellow in the apartment below me asked if I was building something.

If you fancy doing a bit of sauna suiting yourself, let me give you a couple of pointers:

First and most important, DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES  pass wind in your suit. Normally I would not be so uncouth as to mention bodily functions, being a lady and all, but this point is so very important – indeed, your very self-respect is at stake – that I feel I would be remiss not to warn you. That warning is:  it does not matter how long you have your suit on, if you pass wind, IT will still be in there when you take your suit off.

Second, drink lots of water.

Third, if your a flailer like me, get yourself some duct tape. Sauna suit seams aren’t very strong, and vigorous pulling can tear them; that means heat can escape and your suit is effectively useless. If this happens to your suit, don’t just throw it out, patch it up with duct tape and it’ll be good as new!

That there is Kiwi ingenuity!

I am not the only one who has been exercising; here is a photo of Daisy on her hollies in Dubrovnik:

Don’t you just want to fold her up and put her in your pocket?!

As you can see, Daisy reached her goal weight just before she left. However, after a daily round of Slovakian ice cream washed down with a few G&Ts, as well as her 2 day post-holiday scoffathon, not only did she fall off the wagon, she rolled down the hill and got stuck in a ditch until the wagon was a dot in the distance. I am pleased to report that she has managed to claw her way back and is happily in the ‘maintenance’ phase of her diet.

Maisy has been on holiday too – a cruise to be precise. By all accounts (that account being Maisy’s), she was very self-controlled and ate salads and such. Somewhat mysteriously then, she magically gained 2lbs on her return, which one can only assume was an increase in muscle mass from all the shuffleboard or deck-chair reclining.

As for me, I have popped. Popping occurs when you move from one body shape to another. Mostly dieting is slow going, with imperceptible changes, until one day…pop! You and everyone else can see you’ve lost weight. It can happen then the other way too. Like if you’re slim and you get a new fella, you let your gym membership lapse and cement you bond with pies, you start gaining weight and moan about it to your friends but they say they haven’t noticed, and perhaps they haven’t, then…pop! You’re back shopping at Evans, and he, if your lucky, at Big and Tall.

I won’t lie, it’s great popping down. Though, like all good things, it has its drawbacks; like when I mention my weight loss: pre-popping it was like “good for you, fatty”…now it’s like “go away, you’re a bit annoying!” and when I reach my goal weight and pop again, it will be “bugger off you skinny cow!” Ahh well, wandering around town with my coat done up more than makes up for it!

2 thoughts on “Fat Club – Weeks Ten to Fourteen

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