S&C contributor and Pompey Politics Podcast host Ian Morris shares his experience of the lockdown, as someone with diabetes. It’s Day 64 and Ian wrestles with (surely) inaccurate – and possibly even spiteful – weighing scales.
Tuesday 19th May, Day 64 of 89.
Scales of no justice.
Before all this began, I decided I was perhaps more portly than was ideal and it was time to lose some weight. This is not a new phenomenon for me. I left school weighing 18 and a half stone, have never been close to that weight again, and have wrestled with it ever since.
Weight is a common challenge for many people, but we are talking big numbers: despite my regular trips to the gym, and walking my dog everyday, my starting weight was 26 and a half stone.
At this point, I am expecting significant judgement from those who have always had the body of a racing snake and have never struggled with their weight. Surely I must be breakfasting on buckets of fried chicken and washing this down with a pint of Golden Syrup?
Not at all, friend. I like my food – don’t get me wrong, just this blog attests to that – but a standard day would be three slices of brown toast and marmite, a sandwich and crisps for lunch, and tea varies, but would mainly be a homemade curry and rice or a pasta dish. A takeaway may appear at some point but at a rate of less than one a week.
In short, I have always believed it is rough justice and that I have the BMI of a giant panda.
Ok slenders, I can feel your eyes narrowing.
‘Carbs, look at the carbs! There’s your problem, porky.’
Yes, I get it, but many people love carbs but are not this big.
Yes, I have omitted alcohol over the government’s recommended weekly limit, and though at about 4 pm, I do like a biscuit with my cup of tea, I still assert life isn’t fair.
This was never more so than this morning.
Tuesday is the Scales of Judgement Day in the Morris household and I strode toward the scales with confidence.
I was tracking at 24lbs lost so far and thought I had had a good week. Surely I would be nudging closer to that 2 stone off.
‘350 lbs,’ Nicky announced.
350 lbs? There is something wrong with the scales.
As we are skilled IT operatives, we turned them off and back on again.
Sadly it was still 350 lbs.
I have gained 3lbs.
This is no bloody justice at all, and frankly, I forsook my bowl of cornflakes with semi-skimmed milk at once, for three slices of delicious buttery toast and marmite.
I am now sitting here waiting for the final slap on the side of the head.
Tiny Tom joined me in this quest a few weeks after I started, and he has already dropped over two stone. Unless the scales are spiteful to him as well, I am in for a day of ‘You need to keep your eyes on the prize, Dad,’ ‘You can cheat yourself, but you can’t cheat the scales,’ and other pearls of wisdom.
It seems reporting him to Sir Arthur Kitten Doyle, HR Director, makes no difference. I am starting to doubt our wisdom in appointing him.
PS Tiny Tom lost another 2lbs but he had hoped for more, so this is the best result: he isn’t crowing 🙂
Don’t miss Ian’s diary each day, keep an eye out for new entries here, along with past editions of the Pompey Politics Podcast. How are you managing the lockdown at the moment? Get in touch with us over on Facebook or Twitter and let us know your experiences and any hints and tips you’re finding helpful right now.
