The Fatslayer Chronicles

Sometimes I have a tendency to lose my sense of perspective (you, noticed that, huh?), and I have to make a real mental effort to stop freaking out and pull myself back towards normality. This journey I’m on is supposed to be a drive towards healthy living, and the whole object of the exercise is to feel better, not worse, in mind body and spirit. Plunging into depression because of stupid things like the scales moving in the wrong direction just isn’t healthy, and neither is narrowing my whole life down to one obsessive, neurotic, all-pervasive drive to shed the blubber at all costs.

It’s important, yes, but it’s not THAT important.

Bearing this in mind, I tried to think of the things that I WOULDN’T sacrifice to be slim and healthy – and it was a surprisingly long list.

If I had to choose between being healthy or loving and being loved, I’d choose to be love and be loved.

If I had to choose between the epitaphs ‘She did good’ or ‘She looked good’, I’d choose the former.

If I had to choose between being healthily fat or unhealthily thin, I’d choose healthily fat.

If I had to choose between living for 100 miserable years or for 50 happy years, I’d choose the latter.

If I had to choose between wearing black because it’s supposedly slimming or red because it makes me feel sexy and confident, I’d choose to wear red.

If I had to choose between eating celery soup followed by a night on the treadmill, or licking off chocolate body paint followed by a night of passion, I’d choose the body paint and night of passion without hesitation. (Obviously I’m just a wanton hussy!)

If I had to carry one (or two, or three, or ten) extra pound of fat for every extra year added to K’s life expectancy I would do it in a heartbeat, and gladly.

If I had to choose between curing cancer or being slim, I'd choose to cure cancer.

If a fairy Godmother offered me the choice of inner beauty or outer beauty I would (after only the teensiest hesitation) choose the inner beauty.

If it was a choice of getting through a bad patch without wine and chocolate or with wine and chocolate, I'd choose the wine and chocolate.

If the cost of being slim was to lose my sense of humour, I’d consider it a lousy bargain.

If I had to choose between being slim, or being intelligent, I’d choose to be intelligent (she said intelligently!)

If being slim meant I couldn’t ever spend another lazy Sunday cuddled up on the sofa next to K, reading Jane Austen and eating Pringles, I’d choose to stay fat.

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Well, there you have it, my perspective-restoring list. Phew, I’m so glad I don’t have to actually make those choices, but at least it shows that there is more to life than losing weight.

I want to get fit and healthy, but I don’t want it at any cost. If I just keep plugging away I’ll get there eventually, but in the meantime there are lots of things I have already that I’ve not been appreciating properly. Hmmm, maybe it’s time I started to count my blessings!