I’ve been a large man since I was in my mid-20s, and for all except a year in 2005/6 when I lost lots of weight, I have been pretty large indeed.
There are times when you just get on with being porky, and there are other times when the size really matters. Holidays is the worst.
Going on holiday when you’re fat brings with it all manner of problems from the High and Mighty clobber to the fear of the seatbelt on the plane.
I have five weeks till this year’s holiday, and I wonder how much I can cut between now and then.
A pound? A stone? Two? More?
Over the years we have been on many breaks where there has been quite a crew of us – family, friends, random hangers on.
There was one holiday where, between my fellow fat pal Ali and me, we must have bust five of those white plastic garden chairs simply by sitting in them.
Some went with a pistol crack, others gently melted beneath us.
I don’t want to be the laughing stock or the source of pity or scorn this summer.
Most of all I do not want to be sitting by the pool, impotent and sweaty, while others splash around having fun.
Five weeks is not a lot of time, and I should have started before now, but it gives me enough time to have a crack at it.
I am joining a gym tomorrow again, and I am speaking to Shaun to see if we can get some kind of timetable together.
I’d like to swallow any shame and pride and also get back to the boxing.
Likewise, even though the house is a tip because we are having some work done, I will get the rowing machine back up.
I am so big just now that I can only really hope to get down to ‘Very Big Man’ size rather than a anything else, but even that will be a great achievement in the time I have.