Occasional Scribbles

“So I’ve set myself a target, to lose one and a half stone by Christmas”, I say to The Teen as we trundle along in the car.  I surreptitiously glance sideways at him to see if he is raising his brows at this piece of oft heard news.  I see no change in his exression, which could mean he simply isn’t listening and hasn’t heard this statemnt of intent.  I prompt him a bit, “seems a reasonable amount of weight to lose in all that time” I ponder out loud.  “Yea that’s great Mum, well done, excellent”, he says as if I have already achieved this miracle, and I know his mind is on more important things.

I usually make these important dietry decisions, after a great meal when I am sitting back perfectly sated, not a tummy grumble in earshot.  It is so easy afterall, to forget what it’s like to be starving when you’ve eaten your way through a superb roast lunch for example, and with a few drinks to boot, well anything’s possible.  However on this occasion, it is late morning and I haven’t eaten anything so this odd little thought that popped out of my mouth is a bit perplexing really but I put it down to the fact that I can feel a spare tyre around my middle when I’m driving, sitting like a sack of potatoes as I am.  The Teen’s attention returns.

“You’ve done quite well already though haven’t you Mum?  I mean my friend Jack, said he thought you’d lost quite a bit of weight but he was too embarassed to mention it.  You know, in case it sounded like he thought you were fat before”.  Umm.  “Well that’s very kind of him, you can tell him from me, that all compliments are very welcome indeed”!

“K”, I will.  And by the way, can he stay tonight, please, please Mum?!  “K” I mimic, wondering what to give them for supper, mentally surveying my fridge and wondering how it will fit into my idea of a new diet.

As we get to town, I drop The Teen off with the usual warnings about not talking to strangers, drunks or other Teens that may get him into trouble, to be careful in shops incase they think he is stealing along with the chavs that pinch sweets in the local paper shop and all the other warnings I can think of.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it Mum!  he says with weary irritation as he has heard it all so often, and I watch him stride off without a backwards glance or thanks for the ride. I drive home slowly thinking about this jumble of boy- man, so keen to be grown up and independent; rueing the loss of the little boy he once was.

It is a beautiful day, too nice to ponder the pros and cons of an adolescent son and I turn my thoughts back to the new ‘regime’ or eating plan.  At home, I realise I haven’t eaten anything and am now starving.  I look in the fridge at some cold chicken and last night’s lasagne, (too hot for that), cheese, bacon, tomatoes, cucumber.  I get a plate, I get some crackers (crackers!  At 30 calories each, what am I doing?)  I get out marmite, the tomatoes from the fridge and some cucumber.  I slice up these feeling that they are at least healthy and then laying out five (!) crackers, I butter them on the side where all the butter squishes into the holes rather than the flat, lean side.  I pile on the marmite, tomatoes and cucumber. I wolf them down and finish up with two chocky brownies!

WHAT AM I DOING?  I decide to start the diet in the morning.  Afterall, tomorrow’s always another day!