Cracking the diet whip

Interestingly, as the calories decrease, the grocery bill has increased.

DEAR diet,

YOU, madam, are a ruthless queen.

With one hand you promise so much - better health, increased stamina and glowing skin.

With the other, you take away so harshly (sugar and those elongated cream-bun things with the dob of strawberry jam half-way down them).

But we shall abide by your tasks and regime, although some days we do it reluctantly.

Twelve weeks we have committed to endure your relentless conscious-pricking.

Do you have connections to the major supermarkets, conspiring deals to test and taunt us?

See here, how the catalogues flow with half-priced corn chips, discounted flavoured milks and end-of-line clearances on creamy, caramel-laced ice blocks.

Although this letter is firmly addressed to you, diet, there are elements that need to be passed onto your partner, fitness schedule.

There are more crunches in his exercise routine than in a tube of Pringles, more bending than a liquorice strap, more lifts than a can of Lift, and more jogging than… well, I can’t really think of an analogy there but I could certainly go for an apricot Danish right about now.

And perhaps the biggest blow is your timing - how dare you encroach upon Easter.

Surely you are jeopardising the livelihoods of Cadbury, Red Tulip and Nestlé workers by preventing our usual considerable investment into the chocolate industry at this time of year? (Although, the Cadbury workers stand a good chance at being compensated.)

Some days we feel toned and fresh, like pineapple upside-down cake straight from the tin; other days, the weight of expectation makes us feel soft and hollow, like a warm jam donut dusted in the most aromatic cinnamon sugar.

Your digestion dictatorship is improving our mental fitness however.

We now count calories and kilojoules like it's second nature.

Interestingly, as the calories decrease, the grocery bill has increased. They’re not giving away raw organic quinoa, it seems.

We will not be bettered by your table tyranny. We know there is a greater good here and so we shall abide by your rules although they grind us down like crushed Violet Crumble bar scattered over ice-cream.

So bring forth your balsamic vinegar salads, probiotic natural yoghurts and spinach parcels - we will consume them with zest (mainly because there’s nothing else to eat in the house now) and we will not complain for we are slimming, trimming and skimming (milk).

For we will not be beaten, like cream whipped to soft peaks ready for the waiting pavlova.

There is a light at the end of your three-month tunnel. Heaven help us if we are unable to fit through that tunnel though.

The Iceberg LettersDear readers - the majority of an iceberg sits below the surface, and it may just take one special letter to see what else lurks under the tip of a topic.


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