For some time there’s been a creeping circumference to my middle section. I weighed myself this morning: 80 kilos. Oh the embarrassment. This isn’t as bad as I feared but it isn’t good either. I’ve made some goals:

  1. Return to 76 kilos

2. Fit back into my dress trousers – none fit at the present.

3. Go to Palm Springs next March and get in the pool without feeling horrible about it.

My waistline has slowly expanded over time from many factors until things have gone too far and I am officially BMI-impaired – sort of like the fall of Rome. There is nothing drastic to do. I merely have to watch what I eat and go to the gym more regularly.  My downfall (sticking with the Rome simile) is I’ve slowly let in the barbarians only to wake up one morning to realize they have taken over. That’s the dart! Eliminate the nickel and dime imperial tid-bits and hope this takes care of things.

After the golden age of civilization has passed people long for the ‘good old days’ but history shows there is no going back. I hope this is where the Pax Romana metaphor ceases its use. I don’t have to be model thin; I want to fit back into my pants – and look good out of them.

The data is mixed which approach has the better success rate: continually telling others about your weight and diet – or keeping mum about the whole thing. The former has the disadvantage few if anyone wants to hear about another’s attempts at losing weight. The latter has the problem it deprives one of good blogging material when the mind is a blank.

The Most Austere Diet (MAD) commences. All of Rome rejoices.  It is ixnay on the treats found in the office kitchens and there will be no more late night snacks. Time for more salads and less drive-through rubbish – and no booze for a while. I had plenty last weekend in Palm Springs so that shouldn’t be too difficult. Please don’t feed me buns and things and avoid curried snacks.