Giving Up

This week seems to be the week of giving up. I went to see Max. Naturally, I got on the scales and was exactly the same weight as I have been for the past year. I told him we need to go 'back to basics' in a kind of dodgy John Major campaign way. Let's just keep it simple, I said.

He said: I'm transferring you to someone else.

The day finally came: he gave up on me. Well, I can understand it. I don't look good on anyone's case load. I'm the girl that neither gets slimmer nor goes away. I can't help but feel rejected, just a little bit.

What have I honestly learnt during this long journey into weight loss?

1. I don't over-eat because I'm not putting on any weight.
2. I'm 'positively athletic' by general standards, based on the amount of exercise I do.
3. I don't stick to diets because they hurt and my family suffers my temper.
4. If I try to cut down on food, I end up eating more of the wrong sort of food instead.
5. I get really ratty, very quickly if I don't get enough food. Other people get to this stage when they are starving themselves. I get to it almost instantly.

So, it seems I have a few possibilities.

• I can remain large, and maintain the weight I'm at fairly easily.
• I can continue to fail at losing weight by cutting down tiny amounts at a time and hoping.
• I can stop eating altogether and just ride the wave of lethargy, pain and screaming that follows.

The only one of the three that actually includes the possibility of weight loss is the last one. So, that's the plan. I shall take paracetemol for the hunger pains and drink lots of water. A week should do it.