There's no such thing as a three lunch

It used to be I’d say to people, “hey, I’m getting kind of fat.” And people would say, “what are talking about?” with some surprise, “you’re totally skinny.” Then recently, I’d say the same, and they’d go, “yeah, you are putting on some weight.” Now, quite remarkably, people are volunteering this information. “Dude,” they say, looking at my belly. “You’re fat.”

How did this happen? In just a few months I’ve gone from floater to bloater. My blazers are tight (and not like in an indie rock and roll kind of way), my jeans don’t fit and, well, I don’t even want to talk about the swelling in my feet. I find myself wearing more black, saying stuff like, “moment on the lips, lifetime on the hips”, and asking retails assistants if my bum looks big in any number of outfits.

Now that everybody and their mama is noticing (never mind that my lifestyle is inherently unhealthy), I feel driven by vanity to act quickly. This involves switching from regular M&S ready meals to their ‘Count on Us’ low-calorie range, drinking spirits instead of beer and occasionally – get this – walking over to the TV to change the channel. (That won’t last.)

But, before my toes disappear beneath the shadow of my belly, I am going to have to do something. Even if that means just eating the one lunch.