The starvation diet

I’m on day two of a five day detox diet. The first day wasn’t too bad apart from the slight headache and the pain of throwing away my children’s spaghetti leftovers in the food bin. The food bin had always been me but for these five days I am determined that my mouth will not consume any scraps from anyone’s plate. Instead I will eat my soups, close my eyes and smile at the new svelte figure that will emerge come Friday.

I’ve tried all the diets, every one of them begins with the ‘impossible seeming possible’ – thanks to this new secret of the California diet, the x-diet, the slim-fast diet, the whatever-you -want-to call-it diet. However, nothing works on my arse other than the old wives secret of eating less and moving more. Still I pursue an alternative hopeful that an easy solution is to be found – believing that medical science is pouring all it’s resource into discovering my wonder arse reducer.

If by Friday I’m not a size 8 then I know I will be looking at the back adverts of magazines wondering if that Harley street clinic is worth the money. After all, I can put up with bruises, I know I can lay on the sofa watching Netflix while I convalesce for 2 weeks wearing spandex to hold in my new lipo sucked bum. Sadly, my husband thinks I’m nuts and threatens to divorce me should I ever be that vain as to pay £5000 + VAT to have someone hoover my arse away (I still considered it but after much deliberation I decided I liked my husband more than my fat).

I’m not alone in my thoughts. I know most women and men face their imperfections every day and want to do something about it. To explain this, the extract I’ve chosen is from a stranger explaining to Olivia that the surgeons theatre will become her alter in years to come….

“Why should beauty be confined to just a few years in your life? And I mean a few. When we are teenagers we haven’t the confidence to display what we have nor do we have the money to afford the style to show off our young self, but by our mid-twenties we have matured into our beauty as mother nature designed plus we have the confidence to display it in all its wealth and by our late twenties to early thirties we’ve got our man then..’

‘…..Then it’s gone! Gone by 35 at the latest!’ continued Sally: ‘Women have probably shot out a couple of kids; they have saddle bags, baggy boobs and bags under their eyes. They don’t have time for the hairdresser and when they do they opt for a sensible cut to match their sensible shoes. Fine lines have spread across their face and their saggy stomach begs for stretch draw string trousers.”

…..Age comes to us all. Perfection comes to none. I’ll never truly be tempted by the surgeon’s knife but I respect those who have chosen this route. However, I believe it’s an easy road and that’s why people return time and again and that is the reason why it can sometimes go horribly wrong. If it’s so easy to change then they return and eventually these people forget what they look like and instead turn into blow-up doll versions of themselves.

So for me, I’ll continue with my detox diet with a side order of hope in size 8 jeans.