Not for a second did I think ...

TWO bits of good news this week. Greedy bugger, eh? There’s also some bad vibes floating around, but they are from my fellow Fat Club members who put weight on last week.

BUT I LOST FOUR POUNDS!

As you know, until the end of last week it’d been boiling hot.

I’m not sure if that’s supposed to affect people’s weight – I’d always been told that you ate less in the summer (although I’ve not noticed a slowing down in my chewing abilities).

But when the girls in front of me in the FC queue ALL failed to lose anything, they all had the same one-size-fits-all- lardy-arses explanation: “Must be the weather.” (Yep, that or the fact they ate their body weight in barbecue sauce because they convinced themselves that al fresco dining is fat free).

One by one they’d stand on the scales while the evil-tongued thinnie in bold gold jewellery in charge of writing down the damage in their chubby check book would break the news that they’d failed in the weigh game.

And they’d all, bar none, get this look on their face; not a look of idle acceptance that they’d obviously sinned and were now paying the price. But one of total disbelief – you know, like the one you have when you’re told eating 10 fat-free pizzas is okay as long as you don’t swallow.

Too good to be true? Whenever you see that promise, it usually is.

Girl number one: “I’ve put on? There must be some mistake. I only had three pints of lager this weekend. It must be the weather.”

Bold Gold Weigher: “Yes, it must be the weather. (And I’m surprised the scales don’t say ‘sorry we don’t do livestock’ when you step on it). Next!”

Girl number two: “That can’t be right. Two pounds on? I’ve been really good all week and only been eating barbecue food. Do you think it’s the weather?”

Bold Gold Weigher: “That’ll be it. (And I bet that when you go to an all-you-can-eat barbecue, they have to install speed bumps). Next!”

Girl number three: “Here’s hoping for a loss... sorry? What did you say? That can’t be right, love. I’ve been living on fruit! Scones, bara brith, strawberry gateau. All low fat, mind. It’s this bloody weather – it makes you want to eat more.”

Bold Gold Weigher: “Bound to be the weather. (You may be 36-24-36, but that’s the measurement for your forearm, neck, and thigh.) Next!”

Me: “Four pounds off? That can’t be right. Must be this heat.”

But a four pound loss it was, bringing a genuine smile to the face of the queen of mean.
And I’m not talking about me there. For weeks now, I’ve felt stuck in a rut, failing to notice the weight that I had lost. I was not only losing weight, but context. I simply felt that I looked the same and that I needed a really big push to get me over the stumbling block, to haul my big fat *** over the two stone barrier and into that mystical land of Three.

What I needed was something palpable to make me feel better about myself.

Anyway, I found it in a shopping trip with my mother. Armed with a 40% press discount card for Outfit in Merthyr, we arrived ostensibly to look at the small Evans section.
But Mam Jones, ever the optimist, said I should look at some of the – gulp – size 20s from other sections.

... I could fit into a size 20 or even a 22 – I can’t remember the last time I was that small or went into a “normal” shop for anything other than accessories.

But you would not – WOULD NOT – believe my joy when I left with two size 22 tops from Evans (result!) and A SIZE 20 BLOUSE FROM WALLIS. Wallis!

It’s white, it’s low cut, it’s GOT ROOM AROUND THE BELLY AREA!

But do you want to know the best news of all? I didn’t celebrate my massive loss and gain with two corned beef rolls and a packet of crisps.

I’m thinking it must have something to do with the weather...