The Fatslayer Chronicles

K has lost 20lbs since the beginning of May, which is over 10% of his starting body weight. For a first time dieter he’s done exceptionally well, and I’m so bloody proud of him! It’s not so easy for him to stick to a healthy regime as it is for me, because he doesn’t really like many fruits or veggies, he detests fish, and he’s not really keen on whole grains or low-fat dairy produce – put simply, he’s a typical English bloke, and prefers white bread, meat and potatoes, cheese, chips and everything else that’s bad for him. BUT, despite these disadvantages (yes, being a man is a disadvantage. Heh), he’s dredged up some self-discipline and self-motivation, and hasn’t once needed any nagging or cajoling from me. Which is, frankly, not typical male behaviour, in my experience.

This is the first time I’ve ever had a dieting buddy, and it’s certainly easier sticking to a healthy diet when someone else is doing it alongside me. It makes a hell of a difference. I’m extremely fortunate because K doesn’t work, and consequently I come home from work every evening to a prepared meal – it’s like being royalty and having my own personal chef. Now I understand why it’s easier for the Oprahs of this world to get themselves into shape – half the bloody hard work is already done for them. If K would only transform himself into a personal trainer too I’d be set for life. Heh.

Talking of personal trainers, one of my friends started a weight loss programme at the start of the summer, and she hired herself a personal trainer, who comes along to her house every day at 4.30am and forces her (kicking and screaming) into some form of cardio activity. Some days it’s running, some days it’s cycling, some days it’s circuits etc. I thought it sounded like some form of cripplingly expensive medieval torture, and I was wondering why she put up with it every day and even paid for the privilege ….until my friend and I ran into him last night when we went swimming, and it suddenly (for a brief while at least) all became clear to me.

This man makes Brad Pitt look like a bulldog chewing a wasp. He has the face and body of an Adonis – all long lean tanned legs, six pack abs, beautiful strong arms and shoulders, nice firm bum….he’s truly gorgeous. He was wearing the ittiest-bittiest pair of Speedo nut-hugger swimming trunks, and every eye in the swimming pool was trained on him – he was such a head-turner. By all accounts he’s a horrendous flirt with a mammoth ego, who loves himself to bits – but hell, if I had the female equivalent body I’d want to walk around naked at every opportunity just so I could admire myself, so I can hardly blame him for being proud of his physique.

However, before we hit the pool, we went to the gym’s juice bar for a pre-swim smoothie. He sat in the bar in just his trunks (oh puhleeze) and displayed the most gargantuan ego, talking about himself incessantly, belittling and humiliating his girlfriend at every opportunity, making loud, viciously vindictive comments about the looks and appearance of everyone else in the bar and pool, spouting one tedious, trite, sour-natured opinion after the other…his nature was truly ugly and completely negated the impact of his physical attractiveness. My friend and his girlfriend hung on doe-eyed to his every word, but as far as I was concerned having the souls of my feet flogged with a knotted rope would have been a more pleasant way of passing the time.

I couldn’t wait to get away from him in the end, and I was soon back to wondering why my friend feels it’s life-enhancing to be dragged out of bed every morning by this guy – having to put up with his insufferable egotism every morning would sour my whole day.

Changing the subject a little, I was surprised that instead of her usual bikini (she has a great body) my friend was wearing a sort of lycra bodysuit to swim in, which covered her completely from her neck to just above the knee. I thought it was a bit odd, but didn’t feel it was any of my business to comment, but when we were showering after our swim she peeled off the suit to reveal deep, angry-looking purple bruises across her stomach, thighs and buttocks. She told me that she’s been pounding her flabby bits (what flabby bits?) with a hammer to break up the subcutaneous fat (on the advice of said Adonis), because he’s told her that “ugly stubborn fat” deposits won’t break down any other way.

WTF?!?!?

I suggested that a better use for the hammer would be to pound him across his thick, ignorant, insulting skull, but sadly I don’t think she’ll be following this advice any time soon.

Later she phoned me to say that she’d relayed my views to him that his so-called fat busting methodology was crazy, dangerous, unscientific and absurd, and that I couldn’t believe folks paid good money for such preposterous, fatuous guidance. His response – “Well, a fat ugly cow like her would say that, wouldn’t she?”

So obviously rational debate isn’t one of his strong suits, either, and all I can do is try to de-brainwash the pheromone-fried synapses of my friend, before he uses her as a guinea-pig for more of his half-cocked, half-baked, wholly-dangerous weight-loss theories.