A week in ...

A week in and I am the same weight. 12 stone 7lb according to my sorry scales. Sorry Elle. Sorry Ray. Sorry God. Sorry Me for ever being such a heavy-boned leaden-thighed millstone around the necks of your wonderful plan.

I did it. Sort of. I didn't eat any crap that's for sure: i.e. no bread, crisps, cakes, chocolate or other such fun items of snack nature. I did however languish and linger, slightly at the table of alcohol in the third circle of hell that is dieting. I know this is a mortal sin. I also went to 'The Designer Wedding Fair' (this too is a mortal sin I fear) and demolish a bento box including lemon torte and chocolate truffle. Many many sins. But a wedding fair? I ask you? Is there no understanding in this world? Merciful Lord.

But, to be truthful. I feel a bit thinner. I am not sure if I am confusing the sense of feeling thinner with the sense of feeling mildly virtuous or just put out by not having eaten anything nice for a week.

I did two yoga classes - accidentally stumbled in to the 'advanced' yoga class instead of the 'intermediate' and therefore had two hours of leg wobbling agony and embarrassment and chanting rather than 1 hour of breathing and bending. I think that counts as doing some exercise.

Of course the answer is that I should replace my scales. Clearly technology is in error. I have tried turning them off and turning them on again to no avail. The numbers still don't add up.

Let me tell you something about 'the plan'. I told them I couldn't cook. I think they thought that I meant I couldn't reduce a sauce to a jus or make souffle or something COMPLEX. What I meant was 'I am too lazy and tight to turn the oven on and I don't use a hand whisk and I live alone so cooking is pointlessly tedious'. So, the soups on the menu are out. So I didn't make them. I did make this slighlty rank 'miso soup' from a jar of miso paste. It resembles washing up water after a dinner parties worth of washing up. Not good. I fear miso is a major part of this plan going forward. Bless me Father.

The bridesmaid dress looms. Every time I tell someone about this diet, they don't, as hoped, say 'darling , you don't need to diet', they say 'good luck'. This is worrying. Do I have unrealistic body image? My father, who was 26 stone and 5 ft 8 inches was convinced he was anorexic as every time he looked in the mirror he saw a fat person.

I should go and mash some kind of soup or something now for my lunch tomorrow. See, not very appealing is it? When I could be finishing off a decent bottle of Rioja and watching Fitzcaraldo again.

Wish me luck! (Actually, jsut tell me I don't need to diet).