A dieting post. Seriously? It's come to this.

Shall we start with a short visualisation? Let’s. Picture this. You have done your very best to arrive at your physiotherapist appointment on time. You are in the waiting room quietly high-fiving yourself for remembering, after too many times forgetting, to wear the right underpants. Admittedly, the criteria for assessing the right underpants for any occasion is open to a great deal of interpretation.

On this particular day, for an appointment involving some level of undressing for a health professional, my criteria was simply that my underpants be in decent condition. Not grey (unless they were grey when purchased), no wayward elastic, no holes. Just a decent, proper pair of knickers.  And would you believe it? I actually remembered. Dignity intact! Though not for long.

After the initial treatment my physiotherapist informed me that she would be teaching me some new exercises. To ensure I did them correctly she said I’d do them in front of a mirror. Oh and would I mind stripping off to ensure I got the angles right? (Angles you say? What angles? As we both soon saw my body was a distinctly ANGLE-FREE-ZONE.)

So with cruel, unforgiving, sunlight beaming through to compound the ignominy of the situation, I stood almost naked in front of a full-length mirror assessing the damage. (Did I mention that I paid actual money for this exercise???) The only underwear that would have rectified it would be a full body spanx suit. And that ain’t something I own. 

It was mortifying, if not a little expected. Ok, if I’m truthful, totally expected. The real surprise was that I was surprised at all. It’s not as if any of my clothes were fitting comfortably. I hadn’t exercised at all for over 12 months thanks to my faulty hip. And, well, food. Glorious food had become, even more than usual, my lovely, reliable, dependable friend. (Though in hindsight this friendship was not without flaws: read ahead.)

The image in the mirror prompted me to hop on the physio’s scales. I knew, despite desperately hoping otherwise, it wasn’t an illusion staring back at me but I thought I needed the facts. I don’t own any scales and, aside from my two pregnancies where regular doctor appointments gave me a chance to keep track of my weight, I don’t generally weigh myself. Until I did.  

Unfortunately I recognised the number staring back at me. BECAUSE IT’S WHAT I WEIGHED WHEN I WAS 7 MONTHS PREGNANT WITH MISS L. Except this time, there was no baby to account for any of it.  I’ll let you digest that for a moment. It certainly took me longer than a moment to digest. 

Eight weeks on and I am capable of sharing this with you because I have managed to buck and even reverse the trend. I am now, happily, closer to pre-pregnancy weight than peak-pregnancy weight, which considering Miss L hasn’t been growing inside me for 20 months isn’t of itself particularly astounding. But it’s a darn-sight better than it was a few months ago.   

What I am about to write pains me. A great deal. With the exception of various diets I tried to help manage Crohn’s disease back in the day when that was a problem, I have never been on an actual diet before. There is part of me that dies every time I hear the word diet. I hate the word and everything it connotes. But the truth is I’ve been giving one a whirl and it’s kind of brilliant.

I am sharing it as a community service announcement should you ever find yourself naked in front of a mirror, thinking it might be time for a solution other than a muffin and a flat white to ease the pain.   

I have been on an adapted version of the 5:2 diet, the principle of which is on 2 non-consecutive days each week you eat very little. The rest of the week you eat what you normally would. It has completely reset the way I eat and I have dropped several kilos without it seeming difficult. Truly.

This is why I think it works:

• I got an app on my phone to help me keep track of what I actually eat. Simple but brilliant. Particularly if, like me, you have never had a firm handle on exactly how many calories are in the things you eat. (I actually want to stab myself in the eye for writing this. But it works.)
• Maximising nutrition. By paying attention to what I eat, particularly on the fasting days, my mind is wired to pick foods that give maximum value. This wasn’t on my radar as much before.
• Quantity control. The fasting days have recalibrated my appetite. Habit is a powerful thing and I was in the habit of eating a lot. I can now distinguish between hungry and not hungry. I eat less overall but honestly I’m not hungry. I just don’t overeat. As much.    

Ok I will now stab myself in the eye and wonder how NABM came to this. A dieting post. But if it saves me – or anyone else – from the indignity of an almost-naked full-length mirror situation it will be worth it. Surely?