Wow. Losing weight is not easy. I have a Dad Belly and I just can’t shift it.
The difficulty in shifting the belly might stem, in part, from the fact that I haven’t really been doing anything to shift it. In practical terms. I mean, I tried to shame myself into losing weight by posting a picture of my belly, but it’s still there.
There’s a number of reasons, I think, why losing weight is so bloody difficult.
Firstly, the window ledge at my work place. It’s always full of food. Biscuits, sweets, chocolates, crisps. People leave them there is they’re going on holiday, or have spare / leftover treats in their houses after parties or Halloween. The reason is irrelevant. The pertinent fact is that I am constantly tempted at work and my will is not that strong.
I sit at my desk and the desire to have a little munch on something arises. My mind wanders to The Window Ledge and that’s that. This doesn’t happen in the house. I can go for hours without eating in the house. I don’t get the urge to snack. This is purely a workplace thing. Go figure.
Secondly, the exercise. I work hard, then come home, but it’s still not time to relax yet. There’s still the children (four and five) to feed and get ready for bed. That usually runs about as smooth as a three wheeled shopping trolley.
There is a language barrier between my children and I. When I say “go upstairs and do a pee in the bathroom before bed”, what they hear us “mess around in the living room, then go into mummy and daddy’s room and jump on the bed”. Kids can eventually learn to speak / understand Mummy and Daddy language, but it takes about 20 years to learn.
Anyway the point is that, by the time the children are in bed, and out of bed, and back in bed again, I’m shattered. My energy levels are about the same as Jonny Vegas after his eighth pint. The idea of jumping on my exercise bike and pounding some virtual miles is simply laughable.
Finally. I guess the last issue is that I just love food. And whisky. And beer. To be fair, I did practically cut out beer for a couple of months. It wasn’t too difficult. I just had whisky instead.
And there’s the problem for the next two months. We’re surrounded by seasonal food and drink and it is delicious. Turke, mince pie, sweets, cakes, pigs in blankets, toblerones, Christmas cake, Christmas pud etc etc.
So, how do I deal with this turmoil? This clear issue of wanting to lose weight and wanting to enjoy Christmas?
The solution is quite easy.
I looked at my belly. I accepted that I want it to go. I thought about all the awesome food and drink at Christmas, and I thought “Fk it”.
Christmas is Christmas. It’s rich food, spiced and sweet. It’s a Christmas dinner which inflates you to Michelin man proportions. It’s Christmas lunches out with a few ales. It’s sitting at Hogmanay in the run up to The Bells with snacks and whisky.
This type of Christmas is incompatible with a weight loss regime. And yet this is the Christmas that I want. Simple as that. Compromising on a Christmas Pudding with brandy sauce is compromising on life!
So, until early January, there is no weight loss regime. There is no guilt. There is no beating myself up about having a mince pie. I have made a deal. I can enjoy Christmas, full on, and in return I promise myself that January will see me dedicated to shifting any Dad Belly that has accumulated on my torso.