Oh dearie me. The start to the week has been an odd one indeed. Woke up early this morning; it’s a Monday and I am feeling groggy with a blocked nose to boot. The fluey virus circulating our neighbourhood had been kept at bay until now, but seems to have finally intercepted us at last.
Having packed a slightly sicky looking child 1 off to school, I ferried child 2 to the doctors for a check on his rising temperature. Upon arrival, we could hear the coughs , sneezes and wheezing before even entering the waiting room. I made a mental note to bring my gauze mask with me next time, but for now it was too late. Mental note two tried to introduce some positivity into my thoughts and reminded me that at least I could look through the healthy diet sheets on the rotating stand while we waited. Plus, feeling SO full of cold I wouldn’t be hungry anyway. Double result!
Sure enough, the ‘health leaflet’ stand was packed with useful information on healthy eating ( the ‘D’ word for dieting seems to be taboo in our doctorssurgery at least; it’s all based on healthy hearts and circulation, healthy bones and muscles and giving yourself a great quality of life through the best choices in nutrition). There were leaflets and booklets galore, exhibiting the ‘healthy food triangle’ of items to be eaten in abundance ( fruit and veg) right down to the ones we should bother nibbling the least ( fats and sugars). All common sense, but all essentially geared to lifestyle choices rather than the psychology of weight issues. I guess they leave that to the diet clubs instead.
Dieting can have a strange effect on one’s thoughts once that ‘blue touch paper’ of consciousness has been ignited. As we sat in the waiting room, I found myself looking around the other patients, absent-mindedly sizing up what frame and weight they could be. Did they look healthy, thin, overweight? Did they look happy, self conscious, confident or miserable? One man got up and wandered to the drinks machine for a hot chocolate , setting me off into a silent giggle as I thought of how much I wanted to ambush him for the drink. Having not touched anything sweet for two days, the mental cravings had kicked in, even if the cold had supressed the real cravings.
Throughout the day, the regular top-ups of lemon flavoured flu drinks and lucozade were enough to put me off even the loveliest of food aromas, so the children and I picked at any small snacks which didn’t initiate instant billiousness.
The day’s exercice consisted of walking to the car and back, plus a few sluggish laps around the house. I am sure a tiny gram or two of extra baggage is melting away slowly, but certainly not for the right reasons on day 3. I’ll just look on the bright side and consider it as an unscheduled bonus.
Now, I wonder what day 4 has in store?
© Tess Egerton 2011