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Sarah Vine: Making me flab-u-less, part two
April 17th 2013 / 1 comment
In part two of her weight loss diary, Sarah Vine talks cheese cravings and setbacks
The wilderness weeks
The next two weeks are, if I'm honest, a bit of a blur. I have a vague memory of ingesting a lot of green shakes and chia seeds, as well as the realisation that I strongly dislike almond milk. Amelia's food is delicious, but saintly. Weirdly, it's not sugar I crave but bulk: grains, pasta, bread. Oh, and cheese. I resist the urge to ram-raid Jeroboam's and make off with the port-aged Reblochon and instead embrace the concept of coconut water.
On those occasions when I can't stick to my delivery (a friend's birthday, a dinner at someone else's house), I limit myself to simple protein and vegetables. At first I feel fantastic; then I get a monster migraine; then I feel lousy and cancel a couple of training sessions. My muscles ache and I find myself going to bed at the same time as the children, who are very sympathetic. Would I like a cheese toastie and a hot chocolate, asks the eldest. Ooh yes, I say, yes please. But then again, no.
MORE GLOSS: Imogen Edwards-Jones on reaching her target weight
Matters aren't helped by a renewed onslaught of freezing weather, although it does drive the hoodies underground, or at the very least into the public toilets, where they continue their illicit smoking activities. I take to training in my ski jacket and ancient moth-eaten cashmere jumper. Steve seems to find this mildly amusing. Nevertheless, we manage to get out there, so much so that the dog comes to associate the arrival of Steve with a trip to the park. Steve says he's impressed by my progress. I think he's being polite.
At the end of my first fortnight I weigh myself. I have lost exactly one pound. "Poor mummy," says my daughter, tucking into her mashed potato. My son tells me not to worry: he likes his mummy cuddly. Oh sod it, I think, and pour myself a gin and tonic.
Two steps forward, three step back
Remember that pound I lost? I have put it back on again. Must have been the Hendrick's. Amelia tells me not to be downhearted: it's because of my underactive thyroid (did I mention I have an underactive thyroid? Very boring. Shan't mention again). Apparently it's just going to take my metabolism that little bit longer to wake up and smell the coffee. Not that I'm allowed coffee, of course; green tea, then. Oddly, I am not put off by this. If anything it makes me more determined to succeed. I will not be defeated by a mere gland, dammit.