It is January, which means that along with around 99% of the population I feel, well, gross. From 24th December I drank too much, ate too much, smoked too much, slept too little and frequently woke up with the night-before’s make-up still on (hello wrinkles). It really is quite comic considering that a week prior to Christmas I was stood at work scoffing at the individuals who regard Christmas as an excuse to pile on the pounds and over-indulge, subsequently ringing in the New Year with tears of self-loathing and love handles. This year Karma has sadly dictated that I am one of them, however I must boast that I made it until the morning of January 3rd before the tears rolled down my gluttonous cheeks.
The scales became my enemy and upon meeting them in the bathroom that morning I stowed them out of sight in the bottom of the laundry basket. However that act was not enough to save myself from the reality of what I had become; my bras were tighter, dress hemlines shorter now having more flesh to spread over, and my jeans were so tight they rendered me immobile… my 119lb figure was firmly a thing of the past, to be reminisced upon through countless hours staring at facebook photographs.
This kind of mentality lasted an hour. Then I began the process of shipping the left over Christmas ‘fat food’ to the bin (a half-nibbled lindt reindeer can’t really be gifted), and to the guys at work (they are six foot something with metabolisms one can only dream of). It was only when I had filled my first bin bag with peanuts, pringles, roses and Dusseldorf gingerbread that I realised the error of my ways; I am not a single person anymore, I live with my boyfriend whose food this is also, and so would rage if I threw/ gave it all away.
After re-filling the cupboards I began to panic- although I was glad to have burned some calories in the process- as I doubted how successful two weeks of near starvation would be with food staring at me from all angles. It appeared I would have to welcome back my old, yet less than favourite friend- willpower. Once we had greeted one another and accepted the fact that we would be spending a lot of time together in the immediate future, life, and my waistline, looked a little better.
The first few days were hard and consisted of green tea, ‘slim-a-soups,’ rice crackers and grim amounts of celery. Even after three days I felt and looked better (if not yet in the figure, my complexion was more luminous after stepping up the skin care regime and cutting out the gin & tonics), and as a result felt less pained by my January detox. That was until the ‘100 calories or less’ food ran out and I realised that I had no money to spend on such ‘luxuries’ thanks to my material, as well as calorific, indulgence over Christmas.
I spoke to the boyfriend as soon as I located him, lying on the sofa with a bowl of kettle chips and a Reece’s nutrageous bar. After I composed myself, reasoning that it is not his fault that he will forever weigh ten and a half stone and so can eat what he wants, I asked him when we were going shopping and as I was a ‘bit skint’ (in reality broke), could he please pay and I would get next the following shop. His reply struck fear in my ego- he replied that as we had so much food left over from Christmas we should eat that before we got in anything else… As my ‘relationship’ with food is a bit of a sore point with the boy (I claim i’m on a diet, he claims i’m mental kind of thing), all I could do was agree.
To paint a picture of how I have coped since this conversation, let me give you a glimpse of my food diary. Last night I had 3 dry water crackers with low cal soft cheese, left-over cranberry sauce and a side of raisins, picked out of a ‘mixed fruit and nut’ combo bag. For lunch today I had Brussel sprouts with my steamed fish. I’m actually a huge sprout fan so that was fine with me. And for dinner tonight I had a lentil and bean shepherd’s pie which Stephen stole from his mum’s freezer during a visit over the festive period, however I had to pick off all the cheese flecked mashed potato, and so was left with an unappetizing brown pile of pulses.
The worst part about this detox is not that I can’t eat a few chocolates while watching a dvd at night, or having to give up toast and butter, it is about saying ‘no’ to my friends’s social invitations as all invariably involve drinking and/or going out for food. Having grown sick of sitting in, reading tweets from my friends about the ‘amazeee’ nights they were enjoying, I caved and agreed to go out this Friday for food and drinks. (EEK) I refuse to cancel at the last minute, as I would normally do, but use this as an opportunity to discover a route to social happiness and body beautiful.
My current plan has me walking just under 4 miles to the meal, come rain or shine, which will cancel out my food (I am banning anything too dairy, too carby), yet might render me a rain-soaked, blistered mess. ‘Supersize vs Superskinny’ is about to begin on the box now, so hopefully the pre-pubescent bodies and the ‘life diaries’ of the ‘superskinnys’ may provide me with some inspiration!
Day 6 in, 7lbs to pre-Christmas body.
DAHLIA MONROE. 
