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Too small for my weight…

 

roast-dinner-9-large

I am losing weight, not so much by my own efforts rather because my beloved has decided she will have a sleek figure when she visits the United States… As the cook, and hoping to assist her, I tried to follow her lead. I’m not sure how successful I’ve been although my belt has tightened several notches.
The seafood diet I was on was no help at all in maintaining a steady weight loss. You know the diet, you see food and you eat it…

I was at the hospital a few months ago for a check-up and they asked me to step on the scales in order to check my weight. No problem, I stepped up confidently but was flabbergasted when they told me my weight was fourteen stone eleven pounds. I wouldn’t mind if I was 7 foot tall, but I’m only 5’ 10”. I couldn’t understand it but then realised I was still holding my newspaper, if I’d put it down I would probably have been much lighter!

I do believe everybody in my family had big bones and it would seem that I had fallen victim to this genetic curse….
Ok, Ok, the paper only weighed a few ounces and I maybe should have recognised that I had put on the odd ounce of weight. I just thought my clothes had shrunk in the wash…

Perhaps it’s all a state of mind…

My appetite is my shepherd, I always eat.
It makes me sit down and eat roast meat,
potatoes and wine, till I fall off my seat.
It leads me to drink ale, whisky and gin even a vodka rusty nail.
It leads me to Burger King, MacDonald’s,
Little chef and Southern fried chicken wing.
It destroys my shape…
Yes, though in weight I gain, dieting is such a pain.
For ice cream and biscuits will comfort me.
As I fill my plate constantly,
My body runs over, and over.
Sure! Bulges and spare tyres shall follow me
All the days of my life.
And I shall be gaining weight forever.

On the other hand you can try to be smart and attempt to beat the weigh-in scales.

Weigh yourself with your clothes on after you’ve enjoyed a particularly fine dinner. Then weigh yourself in the morning before breakfast with no clothes on. It’s a real boost to see how much weight you’ve lost overnight.

Other rules.
Never, never, weigh yourself with wet hair.
Weigh yourself naked and don’t forget to remove any metalwork that adorns your body… Always go to the bathroom first.
Stand with your arms raised, making pressure on the scale lighter.
Don’t eat or drink anything until after you’ve weighed in, completely naked, of course Breathe out before stepping onto the scale…
Despite my following all these rules… well maybe not all, I still seem to keep adding the pounds, well maybe not unless my belt is telling lies.
A wee poem I saw somewhere, I believe it was written by Victor Buono

Lord, My soul is ripped with riot
incited by my wicked diet.
“We Are What We Eat,” said a wise old man!
and, Lord, if that’s true, I’m a garbage can.

I want to rise on Judgment Day, that’s plain!
but at my present weight, I’ll need a crane.
So grant me strength, that I may not fall
into the clutches of cholesterol.

May my flesh with raw carrot be sated,
that my soul may be poly unsaturated
And show me the light, that I may bear witness
to the Prime Ministers Council on Physical Fitness.

And at margarine I’ll never mutter,
for the road to Hell is spread with butter.
And cream is cursed; and cake is awful;
and Satan is hiding in every forkful.

Mephistopheles lurks in provolone;
the Devil is in each slice of baloney,
Beelzebub is a chocolate drop,
and Lucifer is a lollipop.

Give me this day my daily slice
but, cut it thin and toast it twice.
I beg upon my dimpled knees,
deliver me from cream and strawberries.

And when my days of trial are done,
and my war with malted milk is won,
Let me stand with Heavenly throng,
In a size twelve robe and a size small thong…

I can do it Lord, If You’ll show to me,
the virtues of lettuce and celery.
If You’ll teach me the evil of mayonnaise,
of pasta a la Milanaise
potatoes a la Lyonnaise
and crisp-fried chicken from the South.

Lord, if you love me, shut my mouth.

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