Let me tell you something, something that you probably already know - 'tis the season of the diet. January, in all its drab greyness, lies before us and it's a long time till Spring. Many of us will have eaten far more than we should have. Many of us will have decided on a diet, or those of us more inclined towards a more "hard line" approach will have chosen a detox. Deprivation will be the order of the day, as we desperately try to whittle away the fat of Christmas from our hips.
If I still worked in an office now I would be immersed in it by the end of the first week. I would dread it far more than anything that debt and bad weather combined could throw at me. Office diets are to be dreaded, the more extreme, the worse they are. As the weeks go on, depending on how many of you share an office with, you'll be surrounded by the deathly grey pallor of the do-or-die dieters, those who are willing to deny themselves round the clock in pursuit of the body beautiful. And boy oh boy are they willing to share the gory details with you. If I was still there amongst them I would be listening to their enthusiastic daily deprivations as they describe in intimate detail everything they've consumed since 6 o' clock that morning, which won't be much.
The diets usually consist of the more organised and widely followed ones, sometimes featured on TV, to the more obscure ones discovered word-of-mouth or read about in the national press or women's magazines. They often create diets of their own, diets which are usually of questionable nutritional value, but followed with the same religious fervour of a Jesuit priest.
I've come across the weird and wonderful world of diets in my time and even tried a few myself. There was the diet pursued by one woman where all that was consumed during the day was a can of WeightWatchers soup and a dry scone. Have you ever eaten a tin of Weightwatchers soup? I used to fondly call it the tin-o'-piss a day diet (but not out loud), liquid piss with a few small vegetable bits thrown in, followed by the dry scone which would be similar to mulching on partially dry cement if you had no teeth, it must have taken hours to displace it from it the roof of her mouth. I've tried the more popular ones such as Weightwatchers and the more successful and far more sensible Slimming World. I even tried the Kellogg's K cereal diet once where I existed on two bowls of cereal and one main meal a day. I was so weak I could no longer attend the gym, i was irritable, tired and bad tempered as a result.
Perhaps less rare, but men too can be a victim to the do-or-die diet plan, grown men 6ft tall living on handfuls of apples a day, fathers coming to work and barely eating. Men in baggy office shirts that look like a living death head trapped in a loose collar. .
There will always be the odd one or two that look as if losing a pound or two won't do them any harm, and those who've been on the large side for years and will probably stay that way until February comes and their enthusiasm wanes. They'll be the same size year in, year out. They join in to be the same as everyone else, but are sensible enough to know when to stop, after all what's a few extra pounds if you're happy?
Yes, if I'm honest, I felt intimidated by it. It was hard not be, and sometimes these diets would manifest themselves not just in January, but at Easter or early summer, as women desperately tried to ready themselves for their family beach holidays. Why couldn't I demonstrate such willpower and self-denial? I watched with envy as people shrunk before my very eyes, as they frowned at my bag of crisps or laughed pityingly at my slice of cake. As the months go by it becomes the ultimate female pissing contest as women discussed over the telephone how much weight they'd lost, how many calories they'd consumed, how many miles they'd run that morning, then showered and come to work impeccably dressed without a single hair out of place, their bouffanted bobs cemented to the side of their heads like motorcycle helmets.
The gym is another place you'll find the extreme dieter who may leave the office at 5pm to immerse herself in the sweat of a hellish aerobic workout or two. The gym in January will always have the stragglers from Christmas who come with plenty of enthusiasm and are conspicuous by their absence come February. But then there are the real hardcore ones who've been bitten by the dieting bug. They don't know when to stop, who carry on with their diet strategies until they are walking, talking adverts for Belsen at Boden. A death's head on a skeletal frame draped in expensive high end high street tat. Their fake tanned and boney shoulders jutting out of tightly specially chosen vest tops. Specially chosen to show off their new "curves." Their faces hollowed and covered in loosely fitting dried out skin. They are literally shadows of their former selves.
I've always had a healthy appetite; ever since childhood I've enjoy a good meal, and I was renowned for going back for seconds in the school canteen. My metabolism was insane, I was between a size 6 and an 8 and I could eat more or less whatever I wanted and not put on a single pound. As I got older my weight crept up, and now I am a stone or two overweight, but as Caitlin Moran* describes it as long as I'm "human shaped" and I can see my feet everything's fine. I attend the gym regularly and I eat sensibly. Yes I did over indulge, like most people over Christmas. and yes, I will cut down over the next few weeks, but I won't be starving myself.
There's nothing wrong with dieting and eating sensibly, perhaps shedding a few pounds if it makes you feel good. I'm all for that. But somehow as dieting takes a firm hold on some women, women who are normally well educated, talented, sensible women, their common sense goes out of the window as they become obsessed with their own weight loss. It's like a form of leprosy as each woman falls prey to it's power, to its grip, spurring each other on, egging each other on, watching and listening for any signs of weakness that can be stamped on with impunity.
Surely long-term, radical and extreme dieting on a long-term basis is dangerous?
How do women manage to get into this head-space?
When does a diet stop being a diet and become an eating disorder?
When should family and friends stop cheering you on and start expressing concern?
I feel I've reached a point in my life now where dieting is over. I eat sensibly, and exercise regularly. I will cut down on cakes and snacks when I feel it's necessary, but I won't be starving myself this January. Luckily I'm not in an office environment and therefore less likely to succumb to the diet fever fascists. Yes, I'm overweight, but not excessively so. I shall continue to attend the gym, I love it and it stave's off depression like nothing else, it's better than any pill or potion. But I won't be looking to lose massive amounts of weight. Looking like I suffer from an extreme case of malnutrition is not a look I'll be emulating anytime soon.
Postscript
Any thoughts? BMI a load of old codswallop? Do you know someone who's been on an extreme diet? Are you dieting this January 2013?
* Caitlin Moran, How to be a woman, Ebony Press, (2012)
http://www.essencetiallife.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/why-january-is-worst-month-for-diets.html
www.healthguidance.org/entry/2597/1/Body-Mass-Index-Chart-Wrong.html
www.lovefood.com/journal/opinions/16985/bmi-not-accurate-way-of-testing-health
www.caloriecount.about.com/1000-calories-less-danger-extreme-calorie-b557773
