I know, I know, talking about diets is boring. It’s up there with conversations that start with, “Did I tell you I just bought a shovel?” or “Did you know there’s a standard napkin size?” I don’t enjoy dieting. You’ll never hear me say, “I could really go some lettuce right now,” but sometimes it must be done.
With this diet, I resolved to not tell people about it. I would be subtle. I’d just make lovely tweaks to what I was eating and get on with my life. In 3 months, I will have lost the results of the Heathrow injection – the Brits sure are generous like that – in dignified, glorious silence.
Gee, do you know what I’m about to say? The clue is in the fact that I am now announcing I am on a diet to a potentially global audience. I mean “global” in the purely geographical sense of the word, not as a way of describing the popularity of this blog. So anyway, obviously I am about to tell you that I have not succeeded in dieting quietly. In the first day of this diet, I told friends, family, four people working in our local supermarket, and the man who sold the snacks at the cinema.
“I must commend you on your impressive biscuit selection. Mind you, I shouldn’t have walked down this aisle – I’m on a diet.”
“Look at all these delectable chocolates you have by the checkout! I do wish I could have some, but alas I’m on a diet.”
“Oh I so love popcorn at the movies. Normally I’d eat a box the size of a small child, but I’m on a diet.”
“I agree, Sally Bercow is an attention-seeking twit who overuses the word sexy. I’m on a diet.”
Does anybody diet quietly? I find it impossible. It’s not as though this is going to overtake my life, but for the next three months I resolve to be careful and to leave the biscuit tin intact. Don’t worry, I’m not going all Posh Spice on you. I read about a chef called Lee Bennett last weekend, he was talking about a party he catered for the Beckhams. This quote made me fall off my chair:
Victoria didn’t actually have the peanut butter parfait. In fact, she had a separate menu to everyone else… her main was poached white fish with plain boiled asparagus, and just iced pineapple for dessert. The rest of the guests had the full menu.
|Just pineapple for me, please.|
Now I can’t blame her for not wanting peanut butter parfait. But I can’t imagine maintaining such a strict diet even when you are hosting a wonderful big party. Of course there could have been a medical reason behind it. But if it was to maintain her figure, and she can’t even enjoy the odd “what the heck” evening, that strikes me as sad. But then, I adore food. Maybe she doesn’t.
But how can you not?