my near blow out and I’m back to where I was then, because I’ve lost another pound. I could have lost two, Beryl tells me as she goes through my food journal. She is always telling me I should exercise or at least try walking and I always mean to. I actually enjoy it when I do it (walking I mean, there's no way you’d get me in a gym, or doing Pilates, or any of that nonsense).
I love my slimming club. It’s barking mad really, but I love sitting in the meeting hearing all the other sufferers speak. I actually feel like I fit in. I like sitting with people who get how hard it is not to eat the cold remains of the cauliflower cheese, though I’ve never had that specific problem. I listen to Jane though, and it's a weakness of hers but she managed to throw it all out on Sunday. She was really proud of herself, though she was tempted to get it out of the bin. Another woman suggests that she squirts washing up liquid over the leftovers as soon as the meal’s finished, so she’s not tempted to cheat.
See, barking mad!
But it’s working.
I was always on diet. I started one every day, or at least every week. I’ve tried all of them. I’d plan it like crazy, restrict everything I liked and just set myself up for failure really, but it’s different here. Here, I can eat it if I want it.
Just not the amount that I previously did.
‘Anyone else?’ Beryl asks and no-one answers but that doesn’t stop Beryl. ‘I asked myself this week – Beryl, do you want that piece of cheesecake?’ She answers her own question. ‘Yes, Beryl, I do. I’d been good all week and I’d been exercising too.’ Her eyes catch mine for a moment. ‘Then I asked myself, Beryl, do you really need a second slice?’ She’s still looking at me. ‘No, Beryl, I don’t.’
I feel that I have to speak, so I tell them about the night I had half a bar of chocolate and that the other half is still in the fridge. I get a murmur of well done and I am going to walk this week.
Beryl asks if anybody has had a gain this week and I know that Paul has. I could see it in his face when he weighed in and normally he shows me his book when we sit down but he didn’t this time.
Beryl goes through his week with him and I feel a tightness in my throat when he explains that he cheated a few times. He's got a couple of stresses going on he admits, when Beryl pushes him - just at work, he hurriedly adds.
He never told me that he had and he’s not telling Beryl any more now. I just know that one of the stresses is me.
I know that he's got a stressful job, he’s spoken about it here before, but he's not talking now. When we were friends, when we were simply fellow attendees, he would talk here, but not now.
‘Is everything okay?’ I ask him when we’re back at the house.
‘Of course it is.’
‘I know it’s a bit of a strain, me having Daisy…’
‘Daisy’s great.’ Paul says, bouncing her on his knee.
‘Eleanor’s better.’ I say to him. ‘She’s so much better,’ my voice sort of trails off. I wouldn’t call Eleanor depressed now. She comes over most days and Noel seems to be coming over there more and more.
To see Daniel and Laura, apparently.
I’m not so sure.
‘Maybe we should go to separate meetings?’ I suggest. ‘Maybe you'd be more comfortable talking about whatever is on your mind, if I’m not there.’
‘Don't be daft,’ he grins. ‘You have to say something, don't you?’ Paul says. ‘She's like a dog with a bone, that Beryl – I just put on a couple of pounds this week. There doesn’t have to be a reason.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
Lucy
‘What's for dinner?’
Some things never change – two minutes after stepping into the car Charlotte asks the usual question.
‘I thought we could treat ourselves and get takeaway tonight.’
I must have the only child who screws her nose up at the prospect of takeaway. She used to beg for it, used to plead the entire ride home from school, for burgers or pizza, though I guess we have been eating a lot of it lately.
‘I’ll be a bit more organised next week. I’ve got a long weekend off.’ I explain to Charlotte.