Background
Okay, background. The reason I'm overweight stems from school (I think). I spent 4 years actively avoiding going sport. I used to concoct wonderful and fanciful stories about what was wrong with me. I used to write letters on behalf of my parents explaining which aliment I had "picked up" in the preceding week. I think the worst of these was either the shin splints I had suffered, or the minor exploratory work I had done on my knee, or the inflammation of the sacroiliac which I had picked up from carrying a computer.
So, this ended up in me having almost 4 years off games. However, this isn't strictly true. I used to play the odd game of football (when it wasn't cold), and I used to go to every P.E. lesson (mainly because they were in the sports hall - and nobody really wanted to do P.E. anyway. We could also play squash - which I enjoyed).
After school, I did virtually no sport at all. I went to Edinburgh University for a year, and during that time I went running twice. The first occasion was at about 4.00pm on a Thursday afternoon in November. It wasn't the warmest, but hey, I thought I'd get some exercise. I went with two girls that lived on my corridor. They weren't fitness freaks, but they were still fit enough. I started out fine, slow jog, low impact. Then I saw the hill. The hill in question is Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh.
Now, it's not a big hill, but when you come from Cambridge and the fens, anything over 5 metres is a hill. I thought that I'd attack it. I was going to break this monstrosity that was in front of me. It was man against nature.
I didn't.
I arrived back at halls at about 6.30pm (when the other arrived back about an hour before me). I almost missed dinner!
The next occasion that I ventured out was on 7th May 1999 (the day after the "first" Scottish elections). I had stayed up all night, and decided that there was no point in going to sleep. Therefore, I ventured out again for a mild stroll. I started off very slowly this time. I knew my limits. Blanking Arthur's Seat I headed towards the city. I fancied a jog around this newly liberated city. It didn't start off too bad at first. Mild sweat, heart pumping good general workout. However, after about an hour, I had stopped on the side of the road, puking into a dustbin.
The worst thing about my year in Edinburgh was that every morning (without exception) I had a fried breakfast. And in the evening I had "something" with chips. Now, I like my food. I am a foodie. But some of the meals we were offered meant that you'd have to play safe with chips. I had tried the boiled potatoes on my first day. I never had them again. My idea of food heaven is not raw potato. My affection for chips even strayed over into other dishes it shouldn't have. Curry, rice and chips was one of my favourites. Also, on Burns Night, I had haggis, neeps, tatties and chips. A winning combination. Added to this, everyday I would have chocolate dessert (some form of chocolate mousse in a pot).
At the end of that year I had gone from a 32-inch waist to a 34-inch waist.
The next step was when I was working in our local Holiday Inn. We had to be measured up for new uniforms, and to my horror, I was a 36-inch waist. This scared the life out of me. And I decided to do something about it.
Not that I did. I just carried on eating like I normally did. And in the hotel that meant I could eat almost anything. Which was nice. Fried breakfast on a morning shift, and lunch about an hour later. Sandwiches, and then dinner on the evening shift (plus the odd packet of crisps). I became "sturdier" during my time there.
The last step was when I had to buy a new pair of trousers (on behalf of my brother as a Christmas present for me - nice...). Again I was shocked to discover that I had gone up another size to a 38-inch waist. This again should have been a wake up call. However, it wasn't.
So here I am now, really needing to do something about it now, and I think this is the best way to do it. I'll confront everything I eat. Hopefully, if I have to look at all of the food I eat everyday and then write about it, it'll make me think twice about eating it.
