This year’s festive season seemed to go on way longer than usual. Perhaps that’s because it did….
But there’s always a price to pay, right?
That month of almost continuous gluttony and debauchery was enjoyable, but physically damaging. And a week of pasta and pizza heaven, washed down with calorific Moretti beers and bucket loads of vino rosso, was the straw that broke this greedy camel’s back.
It’s a miracle that I’ve only added a few kilograms to my pre-piggery fighting weight, but it’s no surprise whatsoever that it’s all gravitated to my middle-aged midriff, as inevitably as a fat guest is drawn to an all-you-can-eat wedding buffet.
Desperate situations need desperate remedies.
(pic from Waitrose website).
Andy Murray swears by it. And if it helps get him fit and lean enough to win Olympic gold medals and Grand Slam titles, it might just work for me too. It even seems to be improving his sense of humour.
But let’s not go overboard. I’ll try it for a week. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, and see how much of my expanded waistline – now a shameful 36″ at its lardiest girth – I can make disappear.
I’m not expecting miracles. I don’t expect I’ll ever revisit the unchanging 32″ waist of my distant youth, but getting safely into all my middle-aged 34″ jeans without lardily rippling over the waistband should be an ambition.
I’ll report back when I’m done. In Japanese, and with a vastly improved backhand. But still with no sense of humour.
(small print terms & conditions: I’m also allowed fruit and coffee. Can’t survive without caffeine!).