Do or diet

A recent survey has reported that women go on twice as many diets as they have lovers.

The first thing that occurred to when I read this report was that based on my dieting history, I needed to get myself some more lovers…

I am an all or nothing dieter. I will either eat a whole box of doughnuts or I will not allow one crumb of sugary evilness past my lips. Every last one of the Maltesters; crispy balls of scrumptiousness, from one of those oversized ‘peel and reseal’ bags or not even one lone globe of chocolatey honeycomby joy.

Talking of those bags, does anyone actually peel and reseal? Surely the Mars company could save thousands of pounds in packaging costs by getting rid of the futile peel and reseal sticker? I may write to Mr Mars and suggest it.

Apparently, Maltesers were first sold in 1937 and were described as energy balls, aimed at slimming women. Sadly, we now know that if you stuff yourself full of energy balls, you will soon struggle to fit into your frock.

71% of the women polled in this diet survey believe that diets are an effective way of losing weight and I agree with them completely. The only way to lose weight is to move your backside more and shove less cake in your face. The problem with this is that star jumps and eating celery are both less enjoyable activities than sitting down and eating biscuits.

This year, I am attempting to be healthier, slimmer and fitter. I say attempting because we’re only at week three and each passing day the golden arches of McDonalds shine a little brighter, tempting me with their delicious fat laden, deep fried delights. Oh tasty tasty fries why must you tease me so?

In order to assist with my healthy living I have been trialling a number of different exercise classes. This week, was the turn of the kettle bell. For anyone unfamiliar with these instruments of torture, let me explain further. A kettle bell looks like a shot with a handle on top, to clarify, I mean the metal ball used for shot put, not an alcoholic beverage. At a kettle bell class you swing this device around whilst bending and stretching until it feels as though your arms are about to fall off and someone has set fire to your legs. Just when you think that you can take no more of the kettle bell hell, you get a break, in which you are required to partake in cardiovascular pursuits like skipping, jumping jacks, squats and other hideous activities.

I’m also giving Zumba another shot. Unfortunately I do not possess the two key skills required for this activity, namely multi-tasking or coordination. As a woman, admitting to being unable to multitask is a bit like admitting that you’ve never cried for no apparent reason or you don’t own any cushions. It’s shameful. Unladylike. Yet, it’s true. I can’t do actions with my arms if my legs are required to do something different and there is no chance that I can  manage booty shaking as well. I do not look sexy, I look like I’ve wet myself. Less Latino vamp, more tena lady tramp.

Still, I shall persevere. Embrace the exercise and welcome the work outs. Eat more carrots and less carrot cake, ban the pizza delivery man and who knows, I may even utilise the peel and reseal sticker on my bag of Maltesters.