Most of us watch what we eat these days don’t we? Particulary if we’ve seen TV programmes like Supersize vs Superskinny.
For those who haven’t had the ‘pleasure’, let me put you in the picture.
Overweight people are paraded in their vests and pants, weighed, chided, and then sent to a feeding clinic, supposedly on the first step to a better lifestyle. Same goes for the super skinny who wants to put on weight.
Then the cameras move to America, where each week a morbidly obese man or woman is wheeled out as A Dreadful Warning.
However, this may have the opposite effect on viewers, as apparently when comparing ourselves with people weighing 30 stone, we feel slim and ditch the diet.
Even close-ups of mottled wobbly bits aren’t guaranteed to work. I wonder, after persistent shots of burgers and doughnuts, how many of the ‘merely’ overweight grab the telephone to place an urgent order with the nearest pizza place.
Mind you, going out for a meal with a friend who will only order six olives and a black coffee is no fun. Everyone needs a holiday from calories or the gym don’t they?
When it comes to exercise, I prefer trotting through Hillingdon’s green bits like Fassnidge Park or along the canal banks, or around Rickmansworth Aquadrome, rather than be hedged in by the walls of a gym. Real hedges are better.
Sometimes I can’t face leaving the warm house to stretch my legs, so I get Mr F to drop me off on his way somewhere and I trot back like a homing pigeon. Fortunately, I haven’t yet found myself at midnight in a dark wood looking for a trail of bread to guide me back.
n Still on food, I thought it was funny to discover, while using the bus from Oxford to Victoria, that the passengers who use it are in a class of their own.
Behind me, a woman who was part of group enjoying a genteel picnic boomed out in a plummy voice: “Eden, would you like a plantain crisp?’
I’ve never heard that on the 207, have you?
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