Killing My Chubber #3 (Day 7) | Reactions So Far

In my first public battle cry, declaring war on the chubber, I mentioned my handsome friends who unintentionally leave me feeling inadequate when I see pictures of us together. I also mentioned my colleagues, whom I predicted would, in the most loving and caring way, steer me from low self esteem with compliments that my chubber would use against me. Well, as it happens, the reception to my new challenge has been touching, motivating and, above all, helpful.

My girlfriend, to start with the person closest to the battle line, is dealing with the situation with humour and empathy. She herself has drastically changed her diet simply because I’m not being led to 3,500 calories a day by my chubber. He’s been grounded now, so she is following my lead instead, and is simply getting on with things without fuss. That’s her way, and adopting a few of her normal life traits is helping me immensely. On another note, my girlfriend is honestly one of the funniest people I know, so when she’s punctuating my home workouts by walking in a room and exclaiming ‘yeaaaaah kill that chubber!!’, it makes the situation more bearable. She’s irreplaceable.

Onto my parents. My dad doesn’t care and has simply helped me by not putting the two sugars in my tea that I would have had before I declared war. My dad not caring is actually a good thing. A better way to put it would be to say that he isn’t making a fuss, and that is why I love my dad, and why he is the perfect heads to my mum’s mental, maternal, advice heavy tails. My mum is just like me; put a situation in front of her and suddenly she’s an expert. There’s a change this time though; she knew I’d been heavily affected by the behaviour of my dad’s friend (who is her friend too), and she has left em well alone to wage my war on my terms. She would see my tiny portions of food as a war crime in recent campaigns, but now she’s handing me the kiwi fruit without fuss. It’s the most supportive my regularly supportive mum has ever been.

My colleagues consist of some successful dieters, some brilliant bakers, and some naturally slim folks who are kindly finishing off the Christmas chocolates in the staff room at the rate that North Korean politicians disappear. They have rallied around me, criticising my small portions with caring attitudes, and encouraging my campaign, arming me with tactics and dietary weapons along the way. When I told them my weight loss target, they were incredulous at such an alarming weight drop, but then when I declared my weight they agreed that it wasn’t too shocking over all. I am lucky to work with such gems. I love my job, and now that I am actively attacking a part of my life that makes me really unhappy, they have made me love going to work even more.

Lastly, but certain not least at all, are my closest friends. They took the first post hardest; they see my ego as it sits on its own self-declared throne and, therefore, the idea of my being held hostage by the chubber, my self esteem having plummeted as a result and the idea that I may in any way admit I have been at fault (or that I even have weakness) came as a shock. They individually spoke to me in their own ways, offering support, advice and more support. One even apologised for being thin despite eating crap, in a round about way. My friends have proven, once again, that they are true hearted souls. In a situation that has seen me characterise a weight issue and reveal a vulnerable and damaged part of my psyche, my friends have not reeled in shock or denial. They have done exactly what, in retrospect, I always knew they’d do – they added rule to the positive fire.

Just to confirm – today, on day seven – the journey has now begun to present difficulties. The portion sizes don’t bother me, but the chubber likes to remind e how much I miss the food stuffs I’m not eating every time one comes into view, or when I smell it. The children in my class baked bread today; I have banned bread from my life until I have dropped to 15 stone. Even then its presence in my diet will be minimal. But there was the chubber, lurking in my professional day:

If they offer you some of that bread, have it. I need it. We need. Feed yourself. Better yet, pick up some bacon on the way home and have it on a sandwich with some egg and sauce…

How does **** off sound, chubber? You will not live to see 2016.

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